intolerable.”
For a few seconds, they listened to the loud ticking of the pendulum clock on the wall, which was as big in proportion to the room as was Auriol.
“If you had not been so very large I would scarcely have dared to — say all I have said to you,” Meriel told him slowly, deliberatelygoing back, in this new setting, to their improbable conversation on the beach. “I know well enough how men dislike very tall — females. No man of common size would forgive me for being six foot one, whatever else he might forgive me.”
“Very true,” said Auriol, gazing into the fire with his boot on the fender.
Now she longed for him to change, to be loving, even to protect her from her violent self.
“Wychwood …” she said in a threatening voice, which then broke. “Were I to have lived as a female, what should have become of me? Do you think I would have been a whit less outrageously noticeable than you are?” She thumped the table.
Suddenly, he turned and slowly smiled. “Westmarch, Meriel, you are a terrifying creature.”
“I hope not, sir, to you,” she stammered. Meriel was sweating and shaking, because she had never expected his reaction, his smile, to mean quite so much to her. Meriel’s knowledge of ordinary life was almost nothing, but instinct told her that he might very easily have turned frigid with fear and disgust.
Auriol leant forward, grasped her fingers, and drew her towards him, and as he put his arms round her shoulders, she hugged him still more tightly than he was hugging her. Little noises escaped them both. They had no choice but to cling to each other, in the circumstances; neither could face the humiliation and danger of quarrelling to find relief for their disordered nerves, and there was no middle way. Thank God he is truly willing, thought Meriel, thank God, it was he touched me first this time, to be sure that is important.
“It will be well,” Auriol said, “all be well.”
“Yes, it will. Wychwood. My dear.”
Uneasily they separated, and at that moment the door opened. Both stared at the waiter who came in with glasses and knives as though he were a monster.
“The mistress says I’m to ask whether your honours would fancy some parsnips in sauce as a side-dish,” he said.
“Thank you, neither of us is at all fond of parsnips,” Wychwood replied, and his voice seemed to boom. They had realised at once what the man had nearly seen and heard, and they wondered how they could possibly not have thought before theyacted; but overlaying all their instant fearful thoughts was a feeling of commonplace embarrassment. Meriel was unaccustomed to that sensation.
“Good God,” muttered Auriol when the waiter had gone.
“I am glad you are sensible of what might have come of that,” Meriel said, her voice equally low.
“Sensible of it!”
Meriel tried to smile. “How I hate discretion — never thought I would forget it.”
“It is eminently necessary in our case. Do you know what the man would have thought of us?”
“Yes.” She was thinking of total and accurate revelation, he of homosexuality.
Auriol searched his pockets for his spectacles, and when he found them, began to polish them, whilst Meriel watched, leaning exhaustedly against the mantelpiece. She was longing to sit down, but felt obscurely that to do so would be a form of moral collapse.
“They will be back in a moment,” he said.
“Yes — with the parsnips.”
Their eyes met and, each adoring the other for possessing a sense of the absurd, they started helplessly to giggle. Meriel came to table and fell into her chair. They were still giggling when the waiters returned with their dinner, and they sobered up only when the two men had gone.
“Gad, what fools we are,” said Meriel at last.
“Yes, but I think we shall deal extremely,” said Auriol, wiping his eyes. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, indeed. Sir,” Meriel said, as she reached for the ham, “I wish you will talk to me about
For a few seconds, they listened to the loud ticking of the pendulum clock on the wall, which was as big in proportion to the room as was Auriol.
“If you had not been so very large I would scarcely have dared to — say all I have said to you,” Meriel told him slowly, deliberatelygoing back, in this new setting, to their improbable conversation on the beach. “I know well enough how men dislike very tall — females. No man of common size would forgive me for being six foot one, whatever else he might forgive me.”
“Very true,” said Auriol, gazing into the fire with his boot on the fender.
Now she longed for him to change, to be loving, even to protect her from her violent self.
“Wychwood …” she said in a threatening voice, which then broke. “Were I to have lived as a female, what should have become of me? Do you think I would have been a whit less outrageously noticeable than you are?” She thumped the table.
Suddenly, he turned and slowly smiled. “Westmarch, Meriel, you are a terrifying creature.”
“I hope not, sir, to you,” she stammered. Meriel was sweating and shaking, because she had never expected his reaction, his smile, to mean quite so much to her. Meriel’s knowledge of ordinary life was almost nothing, but instinct told her that he might very easily have turned frigid with fear and disgust.
Auriol leant forward, grasped her fingers, and drew her towards him, and as he put his arms round her shoulders, she hugged him still more tightly than he was hugging her. Little noises escaped them both. They had no choice but to cling to each other, in the circumstances; neither could face the humiliation and danger of quarrelling to find relief for their disordered nerves, and there was no middle way. Thank God he is truly willing, thought Meriel, thank God, it was he touched me first this time, to be sure that is important.
“It will be well,” Auriol said, “all be well.”
“Yes, it will. Wychwood. My dear.”
Uneasily they separated, and at that moment the door opened. Both stared at the waiter who came in with glasses and knives as though he were a monster.
“The mistress says I’m to ask whether your honours would fancy some parsnips in sauce as a side-dish,” he said.
“Thank you, neither of us is at all fond of parsnips,” Wychwood replied, and his voice seemed to boom. They had realised at once what the man had nearly seen and heard, and they wondered how they could possibly not have thought before theyacted; but overlaying all their instant fearful thoughts was a feeling of commonplace embarrassment. Meriel was unaccustomed to that sensation.
“Good God,” muttered Auriol when the waiter had gone.
“I am glad you are sensible of what might have come of that,” Meriel said, her voice equally low.
“Sensible of it!”
Meriel tried to smile. “How I hate discretion — never thought I would forget it.”
“It is eminently necessary in our case. Do you know what the man would have thought of us?”
“Yes.” She was thinking of total and accurate revelation, he of homosexuality.
Auriol searched his pockets for his spectacles, and when he found them, began to polish them, whilst Meriel watched, leaning exhaustedly against the mantelpiece. She was longing to sit down, but felt obscurely that to do so would be a form of moral collapse.
“They will be back in a moment,” he said.
“Yes — with the parsnips.”
Their eyes met and, each adoring the other for possessing a sense of the absurd, they started helplessly to giggle. Meriel came to table and fell into her chair. They were still giggling when the waiters returned with their dinner, and they sobered up only when the two men had gone.
“Gad, what fools we are,” said Meriel at last.
“Yes, but I think we shall deal extremely,” said Auriol, wiping his eyes. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, indeed. Sir,” Meriel said, as she reached for the ham, “I wish you will talk to me about
Similar Books
