it?” “I like it,” David said, and he was being honest. He was a little confused.
The sea study was not at all bad. In fact, it was damned good. Surprising.
It wasn’t just the pretty little picture that you might expect from a girl who liked to paint. He took a closer step to look at the two figures. One was certainly a girl. The other figure might be, could be . He looked quickly at Penny, but she was now much engrossed in a still-life which she was about to show him.
“Imitation van Gogh, I know,” she said, and smiled. He had the grace to look embarrassed. He wasn’t accustomed to having his thoughts so quickly interpreted.
“And roofs,” she said, showing him another canvas.
“I do a lot of these. In a way they are like a sea. A petrified sea.”
“Now, Penelope, get rid of that dreadful smock, and I’ll take Mr. Bosworth downstairs. I am sure the coffee will be cold if we wait any longer.”
David and Penny exchanged glances.
“That’s all, anyway,” she said. She seemed to be urging him to go, as if she did not want her mother to be annoyed. He reached quickly for the door-handle to let Mrs. Lorrimer pass through.
“I always think this room is so bare, so masculine,” Mrs. Lorrimer said, walking quickly through Penelope’s bedroom.
David thought it wise not to contradict, even politely. The colours were not those any man would have dared to use together. The amazing thing was that they made a quiet room and gave it a feeling of space.
It would be pleasant to live in a room like that.
“Your house is charming,” he said to Mrs. Lorrimer, as they went downstairs, and his remark won a real smile. It also involved a quick visit to a dark, book-lined room, all very leather-and-mahogany, with silver cups on the high carved mantelpiece.
“This is my husband’s study,” Mrs. Lorrimer said.
“Most impressive,” he said, and nodded to the silver cups.
Tor tennis,” Mrs. Lorrimer said.
“He used to win everything. He hasn’t much time now, of course.”
“Of course.”
In the drawing-room the coffee-tray was waiting on a low table in front of the couch. As Mrs. Lorrimer poured coffee and hot milk in equal proportions into the cups she went on talking about her husband.
“He enjoys the tennis at North Berwick, you know. We have gone there every August for years. If you had arrived here next weekend I am afraid you would have found a closed house.”
David, whose chief worry during the last week had been that he might not discover Penny’s address before the Lorrimers left for North Berwick, said, “Then I should have been a very lost stranger in Edinburgh.”
“I should have thought you would have stayed on for the Twelfth,” Mrs. Lorrimer said.
“You are missing the chief excitement in the Highlands, you know.”
Perhaps she was wishing that he had stayed at the Lodge for the Twelfth.
David felt some of the concealed regret in her voice, accepted a shortbread biscuit, and said quickly, “I wonder if you and your daughter would lunch with me today?” Thank Heaven he had his ticket for London already in his pocket, but he wondered if his remaining thirty shillings would be adequate. Less than thirty bob now: haircut and shave, suitcase in the left-luggage place, tips, bus fare out to the Crescent. He made the calculation quickly. He set down the fine cup on the silver tray, almost letting it fall in relief as he heard her refuse.
Politely, sweetly, but definitely. She was already engaged for luncheon.
She was so sorry.
“I am too,” he said, now beginning to worry whether Penny was already booked up in this same party or not. Stupidly he had not thought of that before.
He had been so damned sure that she would be free. He looked so dejected that Mrs. Lorrimer was suddenly friendly. Perhaps, too, her little subterfuge troubled her. Anyway, she began to talk very pleasantly about Edinburgh.
Then Penny appeared at last. Mrs. Lorrimer’s quick glance | took in her
The sea study was not at all bad. In fact, it was damned good. Surprising.
It wasn’t just the pretty little picture that you might expect from a girl who liked to paint. He took a closer step to look at the two figures. One was certainly a girl. The other figure might be, could be . He looked quickly at Penny, but she was now much engrossed in a still-life which she was about to show him.
“Imitation van Gogh, I know,” she said, and smiled. He had the grace to look embarrassed. He wasn’t accustomed to having his thoughts so quickly interpreted.
“And roofs,” she said, showing him another canvas.
“I do a lot of these. In a way they are like a sea. A petrified sea.”
“Now, Penelope, get rid of that dreadful smock, and I’ll take Mr. Bosworth downstairs. I am sure the coffee will be cold if we wait any longer.”
David and Penny exchanged glances.
“That’s all, anyway,” she said. She seemed to be urging him to go, as if she did not want her mother to be annoyed. He reached quickly for the door-handle to let Mrs. Lorrimer pass through.
“I always think this room is so bare, so masculine,” Mrs. Lorrimer said, walking quickly through Penelope’s bedroom.
David thought it wise not to contradict, even politely. The colours were not those any man would have dared to use together. The amazing thing was that they made a quiet room and gave it a feeling of space.
It would be pleasant to live in a room like that.
“Your house is charming,” he said to Mrs. Lorrimer, as they went downstairs, and his remark won a real smile. It also involved a quick visit to a dark, book-lined room, all very leather-and-mahogany, with silver cups on the high carved mantelpiece.
“This is my husband’s study,” Mrs. Lorrimer said.
“Most impressive,” he said, and nodded to the silver cups.
Tor tennis,” Mrs. Lorrimer said.
“He used to win everything. He hasn’t much time now, of course.”
“Of course.”
In the drawing-room the coffee-tray was waiting on a low table in front of the couch. As Mrs. Lorrimer poured coffee and hot milk in equal proportions into the cups she went on talking about her husband.
“He enjoys the tennis at North Berwick, you know. We have gone there every August for years. If you had arrived here next weekend I am afraid you would have found a closed house.”
David, whose chief worry during the last week had been that he might not discover Penny’s address before the Lorrimers left for North Berwick, said, “Then I should have been a very lost stranger in Edinburgh.”
“I should have thought you would have stayed on for the Twelfth,” Mrs. Lorrimer said.
“You are missing the chief excitement in the Highlands, you know.”
Perhaps she was wishing that he had stayed at the Lodge for the Twelfth.
David felt some of the concealed regret in her voice, accepted a shortbread biscuit, and said quickly, “I wonder if you and your daughter would lunch with me today?” Thank Heaven he had his ticket for London already in his pocket, but he wondered if his remaining thirty shillings would be adequate. Less than thirty bob now: haircut and shave, suitcase in the left-luggage place, tips, bus fare out to the Crescent. He made the calculation quickly. He set down the fine cup on the silver tray, almost letting it fall in relief as he heard her refuse.
Politely, sweetly, but definitely. She was already engaged for luncheon.
She was so sorry.
“I am too,” he said, now beginning to worry whether Penny was already booked up in this same party or not. Stupidly he had not thought of that before.
He had been so damned sure that she would be free. He looked so dejected that Mrs. Lorrimer was suddenly friendly. Perhaps, too, her little subterfuge troubled her. Anyway, she began to talk very pleasantly about Edinburgh.
Then Penny appeared at last. Mrs. Lorrimer’s quick glance | took in her
Similar Books
