Elizabeth took the dogs for a short run on the lawn. She found the fresh air and exercise useful in clearing her mind, giving her a chance to concentrate on the problem of what to do about the three musketeers. They had to be apprehended, of course, and made to pay for the damage they had done. More important, if they were responsible for the deaths of those young men, then they belonged in prison, where they could hurt no one else.
She would have to discuss it with Earl. This very evening. Cheered immensely at the thought, she bounded after the dogs.
Polly decided to take the long way back to the office via the back stairs, which would lead her past the east wing. It took several minutes longer to go that way, but there was always the chance she'd bump into Sam, and she took every chance she could get.
To her intense delight, she heard the roar of Jeeps as she dawdled across the courtyard, which signaled the return of the American officers. They must not have had a mission that day, unless they had a night mission and were coming back for a rest before they took off.
Anxiously she waited as the Jeeps drew closer, deathlyafraid that Sam wasn't with them. Her leap of joy at the sight of him almost made her cry out, but she knew better than that. Sam got cross with her if she caused a fuss when she saw him. The other men teased him and he didn't like that.
Actually, she rather liked the things they said about her and Sam. Made her feel as though they belonged together, like Greer Garson and Walter Pidgeon. One day Sam would feel the same way about it, too.
She stood back in a doorway until Sam climbed out of his Jeep, then she sauntered across the courtyard as if she'd just that minute arrived. Sam was talking to one of the men with him and didn't seem to notice her. But then she saw his companion nudge his arm and nod his head in her direction.
Sam looked at her then and she waved to him, giving him her widest smile. "How are you, Sam?" she called out.
"Better now that he's seen you," his friend answered. He grinned at Sam. "Guess I'd better leave you two alone."
Sam growled something Polly didn't catch, but the other man hurried off, leaving Sam alone with her in the courtyard.
She advanced toward him, worried by the set look on his face. "I was just passing by," she said, as she reached him. "On me way back to the office. I just had lunch."
He nodded, turning his face away from her so she couldn't see the bad side.
Desperate to get some word out of him she blurted out, "You're back early. I hope you don't have to go up tonight."
"You've gotta stop worrying about me."
She could have cried at the cold words. "I'll never stop worrying about you, Sam. Never."
He faced her then, his face bleak, his eyes so full ofmisery she thought her heart would break. "Polly, we can't go on like this. It's tough on both of us."
Terrified he was going to cut off her contact with him, she said quickly, "I won't bother you, Sam, honest. All I want is to talk to you now and then. That's all."
"It's not all." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. "You want a lot more and I can't give it to you."
The ache started in her throat again, so bad she could hardly swallow. "Just tell me one thing. Is it because of your face or is it my age?"
He tilted his chin and closed his eyes. "Polly—"
"Cos if it is your face, well, you know I don't care one bit about your scars, and if it's me age, I'm getting older every day. In a year or two you won't even notice the difference. Honest."
He just stood there with a sort of lost puppy look on his face. The ache spread to her heart. "I have to know, Sam. It's not fair to treat me like this when I don't know why."
After a long moment he said quietly, "You're right. It's not. You said something about a movie you wanted to see?"
She nodded eagerly, willing to go anywhere with him. Anywhere in the world. "
The Philadelphia Story
. But you said you'd seen it."
"I guess I can see it
She would have to discuss it with Earl. This very evening. Cheered immensely at the thought, she bounded after the dogs.
Polly decided to take the long way back to the office via the back stairs, which would lead her past the east wing. It took several minutes longer to go that way, but there was always the chance she'd bump into Sam, and she took every chance she could get.
To her intense delight, she heard the roar of Jeeps as she dawdled across the courtyard, which signaled the return of the American officers. They must not have had a mission that day, unless they had a night mission and were coming back for a rest before they took off.
Anxiously she waited as the Jeeps drew closer, deathlyafraid that Sam wasn't with them. Her leap of joy at the sight of him almost made her cry out, but she knew better than that. Sam got cross with her if she caused a fuss when she saw him. The other men teased him and he didn't like that.
Actually, she rather liked the things they said about her and Sam. Made her feel as though they belonged together, like Greer Garson and Walter Pidgeon. One day Sam would feel the same way about it, too.
She stood back in a doorway until Sam climbed out of his Jeep, then she sauntered across the courtyard as if she'd just that minute arrived. Sam was talking to one of the men with him and didn't seem to notice her. But then she saw his companion nudge his arm and nod his head in her direction.
Sam looked at her then and she waved to him, giving him her widest smile. "How are you, Sam?" she called out.
"Better now that he's seen you," his friend answered. He grinned at Sam. "Guess I'd better leave you two alone."
Sam growled something Polly didn't catch, but the other man hurried off, leaving Sam alone with her in the courtyard.
She advanced toward him, worried by the set look on his face. "I was just passing by," she said, as she reached him. "On me way back to the office. I just had lunch."
He nodded, turning his face away from her so she couldn't see the bad side.
Desperate to get some word out of him she blurted out, "You're back early. I hope you don't have to go up tonight."
"You've gotta stop worrying about me."
She could have cried at the cold words. "I'll never stop worrying about you, Sam. Never."
He faced her then, his face bleak, his eyes so full ofmisery she thought her heart would break. "Polly, we can't go on like this. It's tough on both of us."
Terrified he was going to cut off her contact with him, she said quickly, "I won't bother you, Sam, honest. All I want is to talk to you now and then. That's all."
"It's not all." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. "You want a lot more and I can't give it to you."
The ache started in her throat again, so bad she could hardly swallow. "Just tell me one thing. Is it because of your face or is it my age?"
He tilted his chin and closed his eyes. "Polly—"
"Cos if it is your face, well, you know I don't care one bit about your scars, and if it's me age, I'm getting older every day. In a year or two you won't even notice the difference. Honest."
He just stood there with a sort of lost puppy look on his face. The ache spread to her heart. "I have to know, Sam. It's not fair to treat me like this when I don't know why."
After a long moment he said quietly, "You're right. It's not. You said something about a movie you wanted to see?"
She nodded eagerly, willing to go anywhere with him. Anywhere in the world. "
The Philadelphia Story
. But you said you'd seen it."
"I guess I can see it
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