There’s something dreadful about the way she persistently runs away from us. We love her, and we want only her good. And yet she goes to these incredible lengths to get away from us. It’s as though she were trying to escape something we represent.”
“No, no, it’s not that.” Troubledly he put his lips against her cheek for a comforting moment. “God only knows what it is, Clare. But young things do sometimes get a mad urge to ‘live their own lives’ as the phrase goes—”
“She could have lived her own life from home,” Clare interrupted eagerly. “I gave them both the utmost latitude. Truly, I did.”
“I’m sure you did,” he said soothingly. “But she had to have something secret, it seems. At least it doesn’t appear to be an entanglement with a man. It was a girl who came to see her. That’s queer when you come to think of it. Who on earth could that have been ? ”
“I don’t know.” Clare leaned her head wearily but quite naturally against him. “Someone who is going to help her to live the sort of life she wants, I suppose. Oh, Greg, I’m so thankful to have you to discuss it with! I don’t feel so bad now.”
She even managed to smile at him then, and he said, “That’s my girl !” just as he used to when they were quite young and had surmounted some difficulty together.
They drove on presently, the black depression lifting from Clare’s heart as she realised that he was taking the utmost pains to present the situation to her in a hopeful light. They did know Pat had come to no actual harm. They did know that she meant to keep some tenuous contact with them, even if only in the shortest of notes. And they did have each other as support in this difficult moment of their family life.
This last, more than anything else, cheered Clare. As she sat beside Greg and remembered his calling her darling and kissing her, however passingly, she felt such an uprush of positive happiness that she wondered if it were not almost wrong to be so happy when she still had not solved the mystery of Pat’s disappearance.
“I’ll call in at the hotel to see if there’s a message by any chance, before I drive you home,” he said, as they neared the centre of town.
“You don’t need to drive me home,” she assured him, anxious not to appear to make demands upon him or his time. “I’ll come in with you, just to see if there is anything, and then I can drive myself home.”
“Are you sure ? ”
“Dear Greg—” she laughed, and then wondered why she had used that expression—“I’m doing it all the time!”
“Yes, of course,” he agreed hastily. And when they arrived at the Gloria he parked the car and they went into the big hotel together.
With a nervous distaste for any more hotel enquiry desks, Clare let him go on ahead, and as she watched him cross the big foyer she thought, “He’s just as attractive as ever. More so, with that touch of grey in his hair. Oh, Greg—!”
And then she felt her heart miss a couple of beats. For at that moment a good-looking, beautifully dressed woman turned from the reception desk and obviously gave some smiling exclamation at the sight of Greg. Clare was too far away to hear what was said. But there was no mistaking the possessive amusement and affection with which the woman reached up and kissed his cheek.
CHAPTER V
SOME instinct, quite inexplicable to her at the time, made Clare turn away and stare with the utmost attention at a display of elegant handbags in a showcase just behind her.
His life was his own now, she told herself, as she gazed unseeingly at a gold mesh evening bag. Greg was entitled to kiss—or be kissed by—any woman without reference to her. Only she didn’t want him to start explaining or attempting to excuse what had happened. She could not discuss it with him. So long as she need not talk about it she could go on telling herself it was not her business. But if he said anything she simply could not trust
“No, no, it’s not that.” Troubledly he put his lips against her cheek for a comforting moment. “God only knows what it is, Clare. But young things do sometimes get a mad urge to ‘live their own lives’ as the phrase goes—”
“She could have lived her own life from home,” Clare interrupted eagerly. “I gave them both the utmost latitude. Truly, I did.”
“I’m sure you did,” he said soothingly. “But she had to have something secret, it seems. At least it doesn’t appear to be an entanglement with a man. It was a girl who came to see her. That’s queer when you come to think of it. Who on earth could that have been ? ”
“I don’t know.” Clare leaned her head wearily but quite naturally against him. “Someone who is going to help her to live the sort of life she wants, I suppose. Oh, Greg, I’m so thankful to have you to discuss it with! I don’t feel so bad now.”
She even managed to smile at him then, and he said, “That’s my girl !” just as he used to when they were quite young and had surmounted some difficulty together.
They drove on presently, the black depression lifting from Clare’s heart as she realised that he was taking the utmost pains to present the situation to her in a hopeful light. They did know Pat had come to no actual harm. They did know that she meant to keep some tenuous contact with them, even if only in the shortest of notes. And they did have each other as support in this difficult moment of their family life.
This last, more than anything else, cheered Clare. As she sat beside Greg and remembered his calling her darling and kissing her, however passingly, she felt such an uprush of positive happiness that she wondered if it were not almost wrong to be so happy when she still had not solved the mystery of Pat’s disappearance.
“I’ll call in at the hotel to see if there’s a message by any chance, before I drive you home,” he said, as they neared the centre of town.
“You don’t need to drive me home,” she assured him, anxious not to appear to make demands upon him or his time. “I’ll come in with you, just to see if there is anything, and then I can drive myself home.”
“Are you sure ? ”
“Dear Greg—” she laughed, and then wondered why she had used that expression—“I’m doing it all the time!”
“Yes, of course,” he agreed hastily. And when they arrived at the Gloria he parked the car and they went into the big hotel together.
With a nervous distaste for any more hotel enquiry desks, Clare let him go on ahead, and as she watched him cross the big foyer she thought, “He’s just as attractive as ever. More so, with that touch of grey in his hair. Oh, Greg—!”
And then she felt her heart miss a couple of beats. For at that moment a good-looking, beautifully dressed woman turned from the reception desk and obviously gave some smiling exclamation at the sight of Greg. Clare was too far away to hear what was said. But there was no mistaking the possessive amusement and affection with which the woman reached up and kissed his cheek.
CHAPTER V
SOME instinct, quite inexplicable to her at the time, made Clare turn away and stare with the utmost attention at a display of elegant handbags in a showcase just behind her.
His life was his own now, she told herself, as she gazed unseeingly at a gold mesh evening bag. Greg was entitled to kiss—or be kissed by—any woman without reference to her. Only she didn’t want him to start explaining or attempting to excuse what had happened. She could not discuss it with him. So long as she need not talk about it she could go on telling herself it was not her business. But if he said anything she simply could not trust
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