Anne Belinda by Patricia Wentworth Page A

and hands clasped upon a very manly looking stick.
    Before he could speak, Miss Fairlie said, “Hul lo , Jenny!” And Jenny sprang up with a little scream:
    â€œAurora!”
    â€œMy good child, don’t look so scared!”
    â€œI thought you were in Spain,” said Nicholas Marr.
    â€œCrossed yesterday. Beastly tossing. Why does one travel? I shall stay at home and knit.”
    â€œHow did you come?”
    â€œCar, of course. You don’t catch me going in a train in a blessed country like this, where the roads are like billiard tables. Oh, Lord, I’m dry! Give me some tea.”
    Jenny linked an affectionate arm in Aurora’s.
    â€œCome up to the house, and I’ll give you some there. This isn’t fit to drink.”
    â€œI’m not particular. It’s wet—and I’m dry.”
    She laughed loudly, poured herself a cup of tea, and drank it off standing, regardless of Jenny’s protestations:
    â€œOh, Aurora, don’t! Come in. Please come in!”
    â€œDon’t!” said Miss Fairlie loudly. “You’re pinching me! It’s ripping out here. I don’t want to come in a bit.”
    Jenny’s “Aurora—please” reached no one’s ears but Miss Fairlie’s, but Nicholas came to his wife’s assistance.
    â€œCome along in and see the boy. No one’s allowed food or rest in this house until they’ve told Jenny he’s the finest baby they’ve ever seen. We’ll feed you when you’ve perjured yourself sufficiently, but not before.”
    With his hand on one arm and Jenny’s on the other, Miss Fairlie submitted to being walked off.
    John stood looking after her. First Anne; and then Aurora. What on earth did it all mean? He would have given something for ten minutes’ conversation with Miss Fairlie now, before Jenny had her innings. As they neared the house, he saw Nicholas leave the two women and hurry on, presumably to order fresh tea.
    Aurora turned upon her cousin at once.
    â€œWhat’s all this to-do?” The small slaty eyes, set unbecomingly amongst sandy lashes, were shrewd and a little annoyed. “You pinched me black and blue down there. What on earth for?”
    â€œI had to see you alone.”
    â€œOh, did you? And why?”
    â€œI’m going to tell you. Aurora, please not here.”
    â€œWhat on earth have you been up to?”
    â€œNothing! Nothing!”
    â€œH’m!”—Aurora’s grunt sounded very cross—“the sort of nothing which means something too bad to talk about, eh?”
    â€œNo, no! Come in here. This is my room. No one will come in, and you can have tea comfortably. They’ll bring it in a minute.”
    â€œJenifer Marr, you didn’t lug me away from a perfectly good tea on the lawn to babble about buns in a boudoir.”
    â€œAurora— please .”
    The admired Lady Marr felt uncommonly like a school-girl in a scrape.
    â€œOh, come off it, Jenny! Lord—I’m hot!” She pulled out a silk handkerchief of Spanish colouring and mopped a frankly perspiring brow. “My good girl, if you’ve anything to say, say it, and don’t gawp at me; for I can’t stand it. Get it off your chest!”
    â€œAurora, did you get my letter? No, I know you didn’t.”
    â€œThen why ask me if I did?”
    Jenny’s colour rose sharply.
    â€œAurora, you’re making it so difficult!”
    Aurora laughed.
    â€œMy good girl, that’s what people always say when they’re boggling over something that isn’t going to sound very pretty. Better let me have it plain. If it’s anything ugly, it won’t look any the better for being dressed up.”
    â€œI did write to you,” said Jenny with tears in her eyes. “I did write—but the letter came back.”
    â€œWhat did you write about?”
    â€œI wrote about Anne.”
    â€œThe deuce you