her hair with care and complacence, and went to look at herself in a mirror.
“I don’t feel too bad,” she said. “Where is he now—the one you know?”
This brought Katherine up to the present moment with a start. She went to the table and picked the letter up again, nerving herself to open it.
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “But this is from him, I suppose.” She took up a table-knife and cut open the envelope ; withdrew the crested sheet, and gave it a shake to flatten out its folds. Then she read down the two paragraphs of Robin Fennel’s unambiguous handwriting.
The first said how surprised and glad he was to hear that she was in England: the second that he would try to call and see her on Saturday sometime after midday.
Miss Green, who had turned to watch her, did not see any change in her face. All she did was to look quickly at her wristwatch. But within her, an extraordinary dread began crawling. This she had not expected. Whatever else he had said, she would have had time to think, to make herself ready: but at this moment it was nearly twelve-fifteen , and Robin Fennel was coming towards this room and her like a bead sliding on a string. Why this alarmed her she had no idea. But she was nearly panic-stricken.
“I must go back to work,” she said, going to the door for her coat.
“You’re off at one, aren’t you?” said Miss Green, puzzled. “It’s hardly worth while. What does he say?”
“Oh—” Katherine struggled with her sleeves. “He says he’ll pay me a visit some time. He doesn’t give me an address—just his regiment, care of the Army Post Office, whatever that is.”
“He’s in the army, then?” said Miss Green, looking at her reflection again. “That sounds as if he’s going abroad.That address is so that you won’t know where he is, you see.” She turned, glancing about the room. “Where did you put my bag?”
“Oh—” Katherine went to the side table. “Here.”
Miss Green did not stretch out her hand to take it.
“But that’s not it.”
Katherine stared at her.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“No—” Miss Green’s voice rose to an incredulous whine. “Where’s mine that I gave you?”
“That’s it.”
“It’s not!”
“It must be.” Katherine picked her own up. “Here’s mine. There aren’t any others.”
“But this isn’t mine.” Miss Green inspected it, worried and petulant. “It’s the same kind. I got mine at Hanson’s. But this isn’t it.”
“Oh dear.” Katherine took the brown handbag impatiently from her, and opened it. She felt in no mood to be hindered by accidents of this sort: she wanted to get away, as if this room were the scene of a crime. But for Miss Green’s sake she controlled herself. The lining of the bag was shiny and worn, and in addition to a purse and mirror and other oddments there were a few papers and letters. She drew one out, and stared frowningly at the address.
“‘Miss V. Parbury’,” she read aloud. “‘Fifty, Cheshunt Avenue’. You’re right.” She stared at the address longer than was necessary.
“But what have you done with mine?” insisted Miss Green, in a thin, apprehensive tone.
Katherine replaced the letter and snapped the bag shut. “Let me think. I was taking care of it in the dentist’s. And I’m sure I brought it away with me.” She looked round the room. “The only thing I can think of is that I left yours in the chemist’s, when I bought the aspirins, I wasin such a rush. I can’t remember. Perhaps someone took yours by mistake, or I took hers first. Shall we go down and ask?”
“This is a nuisance,” Miss Green said grumblingly.
Katherine switched off the gas fire, and they went down to the shop, Miss Green holding onto the banisters and peering at the dark stairs. They questioned the chemist, who was kind and fussy, but could do little to help. He thought there had been someone in the shop when Katherine had been there, but he could not remember
“I don’t feel too bad,” she said. “Where is he now—the one you know?”
This brought Katherine up to the present moment with a start. She went to the table and picked the letter up again, nerving herself to open it.
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “But this is from him, I suppose.” She took up a table-knife and cut open the envelope ; withdrew the crested sheet, and gave it a shake to flatten out its folds. Then she read down the two paragraphs of Robin Fennel’s unambiguous handwriting.
The first said how surprised and glad he was to hear that she was in England: the second that he would try to call and see her on Saturday sometime after midday.
Miss Green, who had turned to watch her, did not see any change in her face. All she did was to look quickly at her wristwatch. But within her, an extraordinary dread began crawling. This she had not expected. Whatever else he had said, she would have had time to think, to make herself ready: but at this moment it was nearly twelve-fifteen , and Robin Fennel was coming towards this room and her like a bead sliding on a string. Why this alarmed her she had no idea. But she was nearly panic-stricken.
“I must go back to work,” she said, going to the door for her coat.
“You’re off at one, aren’t you?” said Miss Green, puzzled. “It’s hardly worth while. What does he say?”
“Oh—” Katherine struggled with her sleeves. “He says he’ll pay me a visit some time. He doesn’t give me an address—just his regiment, care of the Army Post Office, whatever that is.”
“He’s in the army, then?” said Miss Green, looking at her reflection again. “That sounds as if he’s going abroad.That address is so that you won’t know where he is, you see.” She turned, glancing about the room. “Where did you put my bag?”
“Oh—” Katherine went to the side table. “Here.”
Miss Green did not stretch out her hand to take it.
“But that’s not it.”
Katherine stared at her.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“No—” Miss Green’s voice rose to an incredulous whine. “Where’s mine that I gave you?”
“That’s it.”
“It’s not!”
“It must be.” Katherine picked her own up. “Here’s mine. There aren’t any others.”
“But this isn’t mine.” Miss Green inspected it, worried and petulant. “It’s the same kind. I got mine at Hanson’s. But this isn’t it.”
“Oh dear.” Katherine took the brown handbag impatiently from her, and opened it. She felt in no mood to be hindered by accidents of this sort: she wanted to get away, as if this room were the scene of a crime. But for Miss Green’s sake she controlled herself. The lining of the bag was shiny and worn, and in addition to a purse and mirror and other oddments there were a few papers and letters. She drew one out, and stared frowningly at the address.
“‘Miss V. Parbury’,” she read aloud. “‘Fifty, Cheshunt Avenue’. You’re right.” She stared at the address longer than was necessary.
“But what have you done with mine?” insisted Miss Green, in a thin, apprehensive tone.
Katherine replaced the letter and snapped the bag shut. “Let me think. I was taking care of it in the dentist’s. And I’m sure I brought it away with me.” She looked round the room. “The only thing I can think of is that I left yours in the chemist’s, when I bought the aspirins, I wasin such a rush. I can’t remember. Perhaps someone took yours by mistake, or I took hers first. Shall we go down and ask?”
“This is a nuisance,” Miss Green said grumblingly.
Katherine switched off the gas fire, and they went down to the shop, Miss Green holding onto the banisters and peering at the dark stairs. They questioned the chemist, who was kind and fussy, but could do little to help. He thought there had been someone in the shop when Katherine had been there, but he could not remember
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