Over the River

Di

“It can show a lack of courage, or too much courage, of the sort fanatical.”

“Or broken springs.”

Adrian looked at her.

“Yours are not broken, Di

“Let’s hope so, Uncle; but they ought to be straightening by now.”

“You’re begi

“Yes, I’m eating enough even for Aunt Em. It’s taking interest in oneself that’s the trouble.”

“I agree. I wonder if—”

“Not iron, darling. It sews me up inside.”

Adrian smiled. “I was thinking more of children.”

“They’re not synthetic, yet. I’m all right, and very lucky, as things go. Did I tell you old Betty died?”

“Good old soul! She used to give me bulls’-eyes.”

“SHE was the real thing. We read too many books, Uncle.”

“Indubitably. Walk more, read less! Let’s have our lunch.”

On the way back to England they stayed two nights in Paris at a little hotel over a restaurant near the Gare St. Lazare. They had wood fires, and their beds were comfortable.

“Only the French know what a bed should be,” said Adrian.

The cooking down below was intended for racing men and such as go where they can appreciate food. The waiters, who wore aprons, looked, as Adrian expressed it, “like monks doing a spot of work,” pouring the wine and mixing the salads with reverence. He and Di

“Marvellous town, Di

Di

“That was a good effort, Uncle. I must say I feel more alive here than I have for ages.”

“Ah! Paris pets the senses. Let’s go in here—too cold to sit out. What’ll you have, tea or—absinthe?”

“Absinthe.”

“You won’t like it.”

“All right—tea with lemon.”

Waiting for her tea in the quiet hurly-burly of the Café de la Paix, Di

To be interested in life and not pet oneself! And she looked about her. Her neighbours were neither remarkable nor demonstrative, but they gave an impression of doing what they liked, not of being on the way to somewhere else.

“They dig into the moment, don’t they?” said Adrian suddenly.

“Yes, I was thinking that.”

“The French make an art of living. We hope for the future or regret the past. Precious little ‘present’ about the English!”

“Why are these so different?”

“Less northern blood, more wine and oil; their heads are rounder than ours, their bodies more stocky, and their eyes are mainly brown.”

“Those are things we can’t alter, anyway.”

“The French are essentially the medium people. They’ve brought equilibrium to a high point. Their senses and intellects balance.”

“But they get fat, Uncle.”

“Yes, but all over; they don’t jut, and they hold themselves up. I’d rather be English, of course; but if I weren’t, I’d rather be French.”

“Isn’t there anything in having an itch for something better than you’ve got?”

“Ah! Ever noticed, Di

“You’re inspired, Uncle.”

“Well, you look about you when you get home.”

“I will,” said Di

They had a good crossing the next day, and Adrian dropped her at Mount Street.

In kissing him good-bye, she squeezed his little finger.

“You’ve done me a tremendous amount of good, Uncle.”

During those six weeks she had scarcely thought at all about Clare’s troubles, and she asked at once for the latest news. A defence had been delivered and issue joined; the case would probably be on in a few weeks.

“I’ve not seen either Clare or young Croom,” said Sir Lawrence, “but I gathered from Dornford that they go about as before. ‘Very young’ Roger still harps on the need for getting her to speak about her life out there. Lawyers seem to regard the Courts as confessional boxes in which to confess the sins of your opponent.”

“Well, aren’t they?”

“Judging by the papers, yes.”

“Well, Clare can’t and won’t. They’ll make a great mistake if they try to force her. Has anything been heard of Jerry?”

“He must have started, if he’s to be here in time.”

“Suppose they lose, what is to be done about Tony Croom?”

“Put yourself in his place, Di

“Yes,” said Di

Sir Lawrence dropped his monocle.

“Your Aunt suggests that young Croom should go gold-digging, come back rich, and marry Clare.”

“But Clare?”

“Isn’t she in love with him?”

Di

“H’m! And how are YOU, my dear? Really yourself again?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Michael would like to see you some time.”

“I’ll go round tomorrow.”

And that, meaning much, was all that was said about the news that had caused her illness.