Sister of the Housemaster by Eleanor Farnes

He wasn ’ t thinking about cuff links. He was thinking how elegant Ingrid looked in her town clothes. “ Well, after being so kind, you must come in for a drink. ” He smiled at her, putting a hand on her elbow. “ Straight ahead there, through that door. There is only one fair-sized room in this fiat, and this is it. ” They w ere in the room now, in spite of Ingrid ’ s determination not to be persuaded in, and Walters and Trubody had risen to their feet.
    “ You are busy, ” said Ingrid, “ I would rather not stay. ”
    “ Busy? No, certainly not. ”
    “ Certainly not, ” confirmed Trubody. “ We are just going, as a matter of fact. Called in for a free drink, you know. ”
    “ No please don ’ t go, ” said Ingrid. “ Don ’ t let me drive you away. ”
    “ It ’ s time we were driven away, ” said Walters. “ We have two gorgeous girls waiting for us. Come to think of it, we are late already. That ’ s what comes of starting to talk shop. Come on, faithful and true. We ’ d better get going. ”
    Trubody rose at once. They said their goodbyes, insisted they could see themselves out, and departed in haste. Patrick, co m ing back from the front door, smiled again at Ingrid,
    “ Well, ” she said, “ did I frighten them? They we re in a hurry. ”
    “ Nothing will ever convince them now, ” said Patrick, “ that I wasn ’ t expecting you. They ’ ve gone off embarrassed , because they think they have stumbled on one of my secrets — a bit of my private life. ”
    “ I ’ m sorry, ” said Ingrid. “I hope you aren ’ t annoyed. ”
    “ Not at all. You would be a most attractive addition to anybody ’ s private life. Now do sit down, and let me give you a drink. What will you have? Sherry? Martini? ”
    “ A sherry, please, but I mustn ’ t stay long. Here are your cuff links, before I forget them. ”
    “ Oh yes. Thank you. I ’ d forgotten all about them — there was no urgency for them. ”
    Ingrid saw at once that Sylvia had wanted Pamela to bring them. Poor Patrick, she thought, to get me instead — I would not have offered to bring them if I ’ d thought of that.
    She accepted her drink, and Patrick sat on the a r m of a chair and raised his glass to her.
    “ What are you doing here? ” he asked. “ Have you left Sylvia ’ s? ”
    “ No. I think I shall be there for some time yet. But Sylvia and Arnold suggested I should have a week-end off. They seemed to think I was working too hard, which was nonsense. ”
    “ A quick round of gaiety? ” he asked.
    “ No. Nothing like that. Chats — and walks — with the girls. Catching up on the news. ”
    “ No young men ? ”
    “ No young men. ”
    “ Ah, of co u rse, you have left him at school. ”
    Ingrid raised her eyebrows, and did not answer .
    “ Then we will go out and have dinner together, ” said Patrick.
    Ingrid shook her head.
    “ Yes, we will, ” he insisted. “ It would be an act of Christian charity on your part. I have had a hectic week — I have faced the Inquisition more than once. I have been pulled through the wringer and am limp and dejected. In other words, I don ’ t want to have dinner alone. Come and have it with me. ”
    “ You don ’ t look limp and dejected, ” said Ingrid doubtfully.
    “ I assure you I am. ”
    He looked far from limp, she thought. His shoulders were always effortlessly squared, his golden head well up. The smile that was irresistible to most people was as confident as ever. Yet there was something of tiredness in his face, around his eyes, and Ingrid hesitated: and, hesitating, w as lost.
    “ Good, ” said Patrick. “ Drink up your sherry, and we will go. ”
    Just as she finished it, the telephone bell rang.
    “ Hallo, ” said Patrick. “ Ah. Ah yes, how are you? ... Are you indeed? ... Well, no, I ’ m afraid that isn ’ t possible, I already have an engagement for this evening ... No, I couldn ’ t possibly get out of it, I ’ m sorry ... ” Ingrid