The Blind Side by Patricia Wentworth

down in Lucy Craddock’s sitting-room and waited for Lee to come back.
    They didn’t keep her long, but they kept her long enough for a young man in a state of strain to have several kinds of nightmares about what they might be asking her behind those two closed doors and what she might be answering. When she did come he thought she looked relieved.
    â€œWhat did they ask you?”
    â€œNot very much.” She sat down in the biggest chair and leaned back. Her brief white linen dress left her arms bare right up to the shoulder. She stretched them out on the big padded arms of the chair and closed her eyes.
    â€œWhat do you mean by not very much?”
    The soft lashes lay on her cheek.
    â€œJust what you said. They wanted to know when I got here, and when I went to bed, and when I got up, and whether I heard the shot.”
    â€œYou didn’t.”
    â€œI told them I didn’t. They asked me whether I was friends with Ross.”
    â€œWhat did you say to that?”
    The lashes flickered.
    â€œI said not particularly. And then they asked about Mavis—whether she was a friend of mine, whether she was a friend of yours, and whether she was a friend of Ross’s.”
    â€œAnd you said?”
    â€œThat she wasn’t particularly my friend or yours, but that she and Ross were friendly. It wasn’t any good my saying they weren’t, because Miss Bingham would be quite sure to give that away. She was going in as I came out.” Lee’s eyes opened suddenly and wide. “Oh, Peter—do you suppose she heard anything? It’s a frightful thought!”
    â€œWe can’t do anything about it if she did,” said Peter gloomily.
    He came and sat down on the floor in front of the big chair and laid his cheek against her hand.
    â€œDon’t let’s bother about all these beastly people. Are you glad you didn’t go to South America?”
    The hand just moved against his cheek.
    â€œI don’t know—there wouldn’t be any policemen—”
    â€œIf you were in South America with that dago you might be very glad to see a policeman.”
    She tried to pull away her hand, but he caught it just in time. He began to kiss the palm.
    â€œYou want someone to look after you, my girl—that’s what you do.”
    Just at the moment it sounded rather nice. She sighed, and Peter said,
    â€œI’m going to marry you out of hand, you know.”
    The lashes were down again. There was more colour in the cheek on which they rested.
    â€œAre you?”
    â€œI think it can be done in about three days.”
    â€œDon’t I have anything to say about it?” She spoke in a soft, sleepy voice.
    â€œNot very much. You can be there if you’re good.”
    â€œThank you, darling.”
    Peter kneeled up and took her in his arms.
    â€œLee, you will—you will —you really will.”
    Her eyes opened. They looked startlingly dark and clear. They met his own, and without a word denied him.
    â€œLee—”
    It was a long time before she said “No.”
    â€œWhy?” said Peter in an angry voice.
    Something sparkled behind the fallen lashes.
    â€œYou can’t marry everyone who asks you.”
    â€œI don’t want you to. I want you to marry me.”
    â€œI can’t think why.”
    â€œYou’re not required to think—you’re not very good at it anyhow.”
    She opened her eyes and sat up.
    â€œPeter, what an odious husband you’d make!”
    â€œNo, I shouldn’t. I should make a very good husband indeed. I have all the qualities you require—good thinking-apparatus, reliable character, honest, sober, hard-working—”
    â€œWhat Nanna used to call a good-living young man,” said Lee, still with the sparkle.
    â€œWell, you do know the worst of me.”
    â€œWe should quarrel.”
    â€œOf course. All happily married couples quarrel.”
    A light