The Diamond Waterfall by Pamela Haines

anyway, need it? What, really, has it done for Daisy—if I had not been able to help materially? And for Vicky—what else there but false notions of romance? Ending in tragedy. Frank. Frank Donovan, she did not wish to remember.She thought, When not unhappy in love, I am instead a little ridiculous…. I am, I think, not made for love.
    Then she thought with simple and hard resolve,
It is time to get married.
    Downstairs, she did not know where to look. But he solved this for her. After the first glance and greeting (“All was well with your visit to Leeds?”), he ignored her. However, once again it was he who took her in to dinner. As they walked together through the hall, she was about to speak to him (such a gift,
something
must be said), but before she could do so, he said, his voice hard, displeased:
    â€œYou are very—as to ornament—simple tonight, are you not?” When, discomforted, she didn’t answer at once, he went on, “You received nothing —interesting?”
    â€œI—yes,” she began. She felt certain that Mr. Johnstone and Mrs. Beeley, walking behind, could hear. “Sir Robert, I—”
    He cut in angrily,
“Then why are you not wearing it?”
    She thought him more hurt than angry. Nor did she see how she could explain here, now. She said coolly, as they came up to the stuffed spaniel, “What do you call him, that very fierce dog?”
    An unbearable meal. Robert stiffly angry—surely the others must notice. Lionel, mercifully, was dining out. Then an interminable wait till the gentlemen joined the ladies. She was filled with dread. There was talk of playing cards, or perhaps Lily would sing for them? Mr. Johnstone was detailed to search for a duet from
The Geisha.
Mrs. Hunnard gave delighted little cries. “If only
I
had a pretty voice—I’m
quite
without tune, am I not?” Her husband seemed deep in conversation with Mrs. Beeley. Lily felt out of patience.
    She left the room for a moment. As she came back toward the drawing room, Robert was waiting in the hall. He took her arm, pressing it beneath the elbow, on the nerve.
    â€œI must speak to you, Miss Greene.”
    She did not refuse. They walked, he directing her, to the small drawing room where they had had tea the first afternoon. There, he asked her to marry him.
    She said, “The message of the bracelet. It was not clear.” “I think it was—”
    She was surprised to see that he was trembling. She said, saucy with nerves, “Do we speak of love?”
    â€œI am a widower. My child needs a mother—as you pointed out. And I —need a wife.”
    â€œAnd you think that I—”
    â€œI feel quite certain or I should not have asked.”
    â€œThen—I shall.” She had surprised herself.
    It was he now who seemed suddenly embarrassed, ill at ease. There was a pause. Awkwardly, he added:
    â€œOf course—I want a son. I think I should make that clear.”
    She said lightly, “Oh that, that will be no trouble.” She turned to him. “Accepting—if I am to consent, I should like to make a condition or two—”
    â€œIndeed.” He looked mildly curious, not displeased.
    â€œThe honeymoon. I would want to go to France. To Paris,
especially
to Paris.”
    â€œOf course. Of course.” He took her hands and crushed them between his. It was not unpleasant. She thought even that she might grow to want more of his touch. “The honeymoon. And what if I have a condition or two? Nothing so important of course, but—”
    â€œYes,” she said, laughing now. Suddenly happy.
I am to be married. I have made the decision.
“Why, yes. Fair is fair, is it not? Do you tell me now?”

5
    I cannot bear it. The most terrible, awful thing that could have happened. Everything is spoiled. I don’t believe it, I don’t want to believe it. It shan’t happen.
    And