Faster! Faster! by E. M. Delafield Page A

eyes would have redeemed any face from insignificance. They were so green, so deeply-set between two rows of curving lashes, above all, so ardently expressive.
    â€œAre you going for a walk? Can I come with you?”
    â€œI’d love you to—but you mustn’t bother about me. Don’t you want to swim again?”
    â€œNo,” said Taffy.
    She pulled off her white rubber helmet and shook her hair loose.
    â€œNo, the tide’s too far out. Sal and Sylvia will have to walk simply miles before they even get out of their depths. I’d like to come with you, if I may.”
    â€œIt’s nice of you,” said Frances sincerely. “Do you remember last time I stayed with you, Taffy? It was when you were living in Hampstead, and I used to take you and the little dog—Jock, he was—for walks on the Heath.”
    â€œOf course I remember. Jock died—poor darling. I often think how he’d have liked the country.”
    â€œI suppose he would.”
    â€œHis Lordship was pleased, when we took him to Arling,” said Taffy thoughtfully. “At first I was terrified he might run away, and go back to Hampstead. You know how they always say cats go miles and miles to find their old homes. But he never did anything of the kind. Just settled down, and was perfectly happy.”
    â€œHe’d probably be happy anywhere with you, wouldn’t he?” Frances suggested kindly. “I’m sure people are most unjust when they say that cats don’t get fond of people.”
    â€œOf course they do! His Lordship never goes to anybody else when he can come to me. When I’m away at school, he never takes any notice of anybody. Not even Mother.”
    Frances felt rather touched at Taffy’s earnestness on the subject of her cat. It made her seem so child-like.
    â€œDo you like your school?” she ventured to ask.
    â€œNot frightfully,” said Taffy. “I’m not in the least unhappy there, but just slightly bored. I get sick of the chat about games, and mistresses, and school-things generally. I shall be glad when I leave.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do when you leave?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact,” said Taffy, suddenly immensely grown-up, and not at all the same person that she had been three minutes earlier, “as a matter of fact, I should be rather glad to talk to you about that, if you don’t mind. I’d already thought you might possibly be able to help me.”
    â€œMy dear, what can
I
do?”
    â€œYou might talk to Mother—that is, if you don’t utterly disapprove of what I’m going to say. You know my Aunt Anna—Mrs Zienszi—don’t you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWell, I want to go to America with her. She’s got no children of her own, you know, and she’s perfectly willing to take me. In fact, she suggested it. She’d send me to College—there’s a place called Bryn Mawr that sounds too marvellous—I might get some kind of a scholarship, perhaps—and I’d either spend the hols.—vacations I mean—with them, or else get some kind of job out there, like American girls do. Aunt Anna and I have talked it all over. She’s frightfully nice and frightfully generous—and they really are frightfully rich and could afford to have me. And of course, sooner or later, I should be earning.”
    She looked at Frances, eagerly and rather anxiously.
    â€œWhat do your parents think?”
    â€œDaddy hasn’t said anything—I’m not sure if he even knows about it—and Mother won’t take it seriously. But as a matter of fact, I haven’t really put it to her in earnest, yet. I’m waiting till I’ve taken my school-leaving certificate. I’m going totalk to my headmistress, and get her on my side.”
    â€œWill that be difficult?”
    â€œI don’t think so. She’s got a good deal of sense. Rather an