They came here to look and found that it was crowded, so they went into the other part of the cafe. It seems to me perfectly simple.’
‘Miss Morrow,’ said Miss Doggett in a warning tone, ‘you are not a woman of the world. You cannot possibly know what goes on outside Leamington Lodge.’
Miss Morrow went rather red, not so much from mortification as from a desire to giggle. She was thinking that if she did not know what went on outside Leamington Lodge, Miss Doggett was just as ignorant of what went on inside it. For she obviously had no idea of the conspiracy between her and Mr. Latimer, the secret of the walk on Shotover, the vicar of Crampton Hodnet, the splendid bath and the sherry. Thinking of these things, Miss Morrow bent her head and said nothing. The last thing she would ever claim to be was a woman of the world.
Encouraged by Miss Morrow’s silence and bent head, Miss Doggett went on to speak of what she thought they ought to do. i believe it may be my duty to speak to Margaret about it,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Don’t think for a moment that I’m suggesting that there could possibly be anything in it,’ she said, turning to the unworldly Miss Morrow, ‘but you know what I mean. There are some things that one cannot let pass without comment. It is a duty one has to other people, not always a pleasant or an easy duty, but one which must be performed. Will you have another cake, Miss Morrow?’ she asked, putting on her skunk cape, fastening the buttons on her gloves, and obviously preparing to get up from the table.
‘No, thank you, Miss Doggett,’ said Miss Morrow virtuously.
‘Well, then, we may as well go home,’ said Miss Doggett, standing up. ‘I don’t like leaving Mr. Latimer alone; I feel he needs company.’ She turned suddenly to Miss Morrow. ‘When we pass Francis and that young woman,’ she said, ‘I shall merely nod, and you must do the same. Just an acknowledgement, simply that. We don’t want to be either cold or effusive.’
They walked up the steps into the other part of the cafe. Miss Doggett took out her lorgnette and looked round. Then, fixing it on Barbara and Francis Cleveland, she gave a curt nod and passed on.
Miss Morrow, struggling with gloves, handbag, umbrella and a great many parcels, made an odd sort of dipping movement with her whole body, as if she were genuflecting before an imaginary altar. She hoped that this expressed neither coldness nor effusiveness, but she suspected that it merely looked ridiculous and expressed absolutely nothing. And in any case Mr. Cleveland and the young woman were so deep in conversation that they hadn’t even noticed that they were being acknowledged.
‘Do let me walk back to your college with you,’ said Francis, as he and Barbara were preparing to go their different ways.
‘Well… .’ Barbara hesitated. ‘I had been going to do some work, but it hardly seems worth it now before dinner. But I’ve left all my books in the Bodleian.’
‘We can go round that way. I’ll wait while you get them.’
Barbara ran up the wooden stairs, leaving Mr. Cleveland to wait for her at the bottom. He sat down on one of the broad window-sills and absentmindedly took out his cigarette case.
‘Now, now, no smoking here, Cleveland,’ said the playful, slightly petulant voice of Edward Killigrew, who was just coming down the stairs at that moment. ‘What are you doing here lurking in the shadows?’ he asked.
‘I’m waiting for somebody,’ said Mr. Cleveland shortly.
‘Oh, ho ,’ said Mr. Killigrew with ridiculous coyness.
‘Here I am.’ Barbara came running down with her books.
‘Well, I must be off,’ said Mr. Killigrew, raising his eyebrows.
When he had gone out of earshot, Barbara began to laugh. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I always think he’s such a funny young man.’
Young man , thought Mr. Cleveland, remembering that he himself wasn’t much older than Edward Killigrew. He began to feel quite
‘Miss Morrow,’ said Miss Doggett in a warning tone, ‘you are not a woman of the world. You cannot possibly know what goes on outside Leamington Lodge.’
Miss Morrow went rather red, not so much from mortification as from a desire to giggle. She was thinking that if she did not know what went on outside Leamington Lodge, Miss Doggett was just as ignorant of what went on inside it. For she obviously had no idea of the conspiracy between her and Mr. Latimer, the secret of the walk on Shotover, the vicar of Crampton Hodnet, the splendid bath and the sherry. Thinking of these things, Miss Morrow bent her head and said nothing. The last thing she would ever claim to be was a woman of the world.
Encouraged by Miss Morrow’s silence and bent head, Miss Doggett went on to speak of what she thought they ought to do. i believe it may be my duty to speak to Margaret about it,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Don’t think for a moment that I’m suggesting that there could possibly be anything in it,’ she said, turning to the unworldly Miss Morrow, ‘but you know what I mean. There are some things that one cannot let pass without comment. It is a duty one has to other people, not always a pleasant or an easy duty, but one which must be performed. Will you have another cake, Miss Morrow?’ she asked, putting on her skunk cape, fastening the buttons on her gloves, and obviously preparing to get up from the table.
‘No, thank you, Miss Doggett,’ said Miss Morrow virtuously.
‘Well, then, we may as well go home,’ said Miss Doggett, standing up. ‘I don’t like leaving Mr. Latimer alone; I feel he needs company.’ She turned suddenly to Miss Morrow. ‘When we pass Francis and that young woman,’ she said, ‘I shall merely nod, and you must do the same. Just an acknowledgement, simply that. We don’t want to be either cold or effusive.’
They walked up the steps into the other part of the cafe. Miss Doggett took out her lorgnette and looked round. Then, fixing it on Barbara and Francis Cleveland, she gave a curt nod and passed on.
Miss Morrow, struggling with gloves, handbag, umbrella and a great many parcels, made an odd sort of dipping movement with her whole body, as if she were genuflecting before an imaginary altar. She hoped that this expressed neither coldness nor effusiveness, but she suspected that it merely looked ridiculous and expressed absolutely nothing. And in any case Mr. Cleveland and the young woman were so deep in conversation that they hadn’t even noticed that they were being acknowledged.
‘Do let me walk back to your college with you,’ said Francis, as he and Barbara were preparing to go their different ways.
‘Well… .’ Barbara hesitated. ‘I had been going to do some work, but it hardly seems worth it now before dinner. But I’ve left all my books in the Bodleian.’
‘We can go round that way. I’ll wait while you get them.’
Barbara ran up the wooden stairs, leaving Mr. Cleveland to wait for her at the bottom. He sat down on one of the broad window-sills and absentmindedly took out his cigarette case.
‘Now, now, no smoking here, Cleveland,’ said the playful, slightly petulant voice of Edward Killigrew, who was just coming down the stairs at that moment. ‘What are you doing here lurking in the shadows?’ he asked.
‘I’m waiting for somebody,’ said Mr. Cleveland shortly.
‘Oh, ho ,’ said Mr. Killigrew with ridiculous coyness.
‘Here I am.’ Barbara came running down with her books.
‘Well, I must be off,’ said Mr. Killigrew, raising his eyebrows.
When he had gone out of earshot, Barbara began to laugh. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I always think he’s such a funny young man.’
Young man , thought Mr. Cleveland, remembering that he himself wasn’t much older than Edward Killigrew. He began to feel quite
Similar Books
