She Came Back

He found himself thinking, “Domestic scene between any husband and wife-any charming, affectionate wife.” She didn’t let it become obtrusive, but he was constantly aware that A

“Still to be neat, still to be drest,

As you were going to a feast;

Still to be powdered, still perfumed:

Lady, it is to be presumed,

Though art’s hid causes are not found,

All is not sweet, all is not sound.”

His lip twisted as he sat down to the table.

The telephone bell rang whilst they were having di

She came back and shut the door.

“Just to confirm my appointment. He’s a specialist-he doesn’t live in.”

His mind on the work which he had left, he hardly noticed what she said.

It was later in the meal that he remembered he had something to tell her.

“I ran into a friend of yours at lunch-time.”

“Oh, did you? Who was it?”

“Girl who was your bridesmaid-the lumpy one-Joan Tallent. She’s in the A.T.S. Very buxom, but better-looking than she used to be. She wants to come and see you.”

“When?”

He laughed.

“You don’t seem over-joyed.”

“Well, I’m not. She was rather a tiresome girl.”

“Why did you have her for a bridesmaid?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I used to see a lot of her when I was with Aunt Jane-she was some sort of fiftieth cousin of the Kendals. I’m sure she’ll bore me horribly now.”

“Well, you’ll have to bear it. She’s as keen as mustard.”

A

“When is she coming?”

“She did say something about tonight, and I’m afraid I rather encouraged her. I thought you could have coffee and a heart-to-heart whilst I was working. It’s very dull for you.”

She shook her head, smiling.

“Oh, no-after the last three years it’s heaven. I don’t feel dull-I feel safe.”

For the first time, something she said touched him. He had been sorry for her before, but at a distance, like hearing about a famine in China. Now all at once something in her voice when she said “safe” brought her much nearer. He thought, “She’s had a hell of a time.” He said aloud,

“You’d better wait and see if she turns up. I don’t mind when I have my coffee.”

The front door bell buzzed just as A

Joan Tallent was certainly buxom. She filled her khaki uniform to capacity. Under the peaked cap her cheeks were as hard and red as apples. She said in a hearty, ringing voice,

“Well, A

“I’ve been in occupied France. One doesn’t have to slim there.”

The blue stare was turned on Philip.

“You ought to make her drink cocoa-that’s the stuff for putting on. I adore it, but I simply daren’t. We’ve got a corporal who drinks it all the time. She’s had her uniform let out three times, and now there’s no more stuff. We’re having bets on whether they’ll put a bit in next time or give her a new uniform.”

Philip had draped himself against the mantelpiece. He showed no sign of going to the study. As A

“She might sign the pledge and go off cocoa for the duration.”

When she came back Joan was still talking about food. “You simply can’t eat it all,” she said with the earnest expression of one who has tried.

When she saw A

Still in that languid voice, Philip said,

“She was.”

With all her heart A

Joan Tallent had a cigarette too. She smoked, as she talked, in hearty jerks. She went on talking about Lyndall until A

“She wasn’t exactly pretty, but there was something about her, don’t you think?”

This time Philip had nothing to say. He came over and filled his cup with black coffee. As he stood there, Joan swung round in her chair to face them both, grabbed at her cup just in time to save it, and said,

“I’ll have some more too. Do you still keep your diary, A

Reaching for the cup, A

“Does she show it to you?” She giggled. “It was the most marvellous diary. We used to rag her about it. She used to put down simply everything.” She turned to A

Another smiling shake of the head.

“I stopped when I got to France. It would have been too dangerous there. Imagine what would have happened if one had said what one really thought about the Germans!”

She took the coffee-pot from Philip and began to fill Joan’s cup. He picked up his own and went back to the fire. He said,

“Does one put that sort of thing in a diary? I keep one, but it doesn’t run to anything more compromising than ‘Lunch- Smith-1:30.’ ”

Joan gave a loud giggle.

“A

A