heat-wave. The only coolness was to be found in the water, or high up on the precipitous jungly cliff-paths and overhung rides, approachable only through masked gaps in bramble hedges, beyond rough fields, after a hard perspiring climb. Neil, who had discovered for himself secret miles of such territory, found himself developing an adolescent secretiveness about it, and went perdu there all day. For climbing in the technical sense there was not much scope; this did not trouble him, since he had come neither expecting nor wishing any. His map was coming on well. The steep woods rustled in a breeze unfelt below; he found a new gully, overhung by an interesting rock-face, which he found his mind filing for reference. The hours slipped by, marked only by the slow shifting of the light-spars between the trees, and by the first respites of an extroverted peace, brief escapes into a contentment too instinctive to be broken by awareness of itself.
Miss Searle endured without exaggerated grief the news of Miss Fisher’s defection from the day-trip. She had been truthful in saying that solitude within reason did not bore her; she preferred it, at least, to company sought for company’s sake. The effort to talk down to Miss Fisher’s understanding, without offensive obvious-ness, had increasingly become a strain; she was unused to carrying on such conversations for more than ten minutes at a time. Miss Fisher had, besides, a habit of bursting into comment at the wrong moments; sudden graces or light or landscape were transformed, before one had time to assimilate them, into terms of the Beauty-Spot or the View.
Miss Fisher, who had been shielded from these reactions by Miss Searle’s good manners, watched her departure with a vague sense of guilt, which she did not acknowledge at a level conscious enough for argument. Still, in the guise of inconsequent thoughts, the arguments slipped in and out of her head. The trouble was that Miss Searle’s refusal (as Miss Fisher saw it) ever to get down to realities, made her such pathetically easy game. She was the kind of woman who, with more than enough intelligence to play her cards well, would play them badly sooner than admit to herself that she was playing at all. On the other hand she had been given what Miss Fisher described to herself in all good faith as Every Advantage; her helplessness was therefore of her own construction. Miss Fisher, as she walked down to bathe, signalled a clear conscience by humming Yours under her breath.
The beach offered nothing of interest except itself and the adjacent sea. Indeed Miss Fisher had hardly expected it; the wet bathing-trunks always appeared on the tower steps at a discouragingly early hour. Miss Fisher’s constitution was equal to a seven a.m. plunge; but her self-confidence, social and physical, was not. That morning, as usual, she had heard his footsteps passing her door, considerately quiet but without fussy tiptoeing, and had turned over regretfully for another nap. Breakfast had been, as usual, disappointing. With unaccustomed hope, however, she settled herself in the garden, after her bathe and coffee, to wait for lunch.
She was well-placed to witness the departure of the Winters, in an opulent hired car. After this nothing happened until the gong sounded, when she found she had the dining-room entirely to herself. The maid served her lunch with an air of patient reproach, on a tablecloth spread over one end of the table.
Miss Fisher put on her sun-glasses (the glare was beginning to be uncomfortable) and went back into the garden again. After all, she thought, the Winters might not have been leaving till after lunch; the afternoon would be the time for anyone to come back who might be hoping for a bit of peace. The end of the afternoon (she added to herself an hour later) in time for tea. The time passed slowly; she wondered whether the heat was making her wrist-watch lose.
Only one more event, however, broke her siesta before
Miss Searle endured without exaggerated grief the news of Miss Fisher’s defection from the day-trip. She had been truthful in saying that solitude within reason did not bore her; she preferred it, at least, to company sought for company’s sake. The effort to talk down to Miss Fisher’s understanding, without offensive obvious-ness, had increasingly become a strain; she was unused to carrying on such conversations for more than ten minutes at a time. Miss Fisher had, besides, a habit of bursting into comment at the wrong moments; sudden graces or light or landscape were transformed, before one had time to assimilate them, into terms of the Beauty-Spot or the View.
Miss Fisher, who had been shielded from these reactions by Miss Searle’s good manners, watched her departure with a vague sense of guilt, which she did not acknowledge at a level conscious enough for argument. Still, in the guise of inconsequent thoughts, the arguments slipped in and out of her head. The trouble was that Miss Searle’s refusal (as Miss Fisher saw it) ever to get down to realities, made her such pathetically easy game. She was the kind of woman who, with more than enough intelligence to play her cards well, would play them badly sooner than admit to herself that she was playing at all. On the other hand she had been given what Miss Fisher described to herself in all good faith as Every Advantage; her helplessness was therefore of her own construction. Miss Fisher, as she walked down to bathe, signalled a clear conscience by humming Yours under her breath.
The beach offered nothing of interest except itself and the adjacent sea. Indeed Miss Fisher had hardly expected it; the wet bathing-trunks always appeared on the tower steps at a discouragingly early hour. Miss Fisher’s constitution was equal to a seven a.m. plunge; but her self-confidence, social and physical, was not. That morning, as usual, she had heard his footsteps passing her door, considerately quiet but without fussy tiptoeing, and had turned over regretfully for another nap. Breakfast had been, as usual, disappointing. With unaccustomed hope, however, she settled herself in the garden, after her bathe and coffee, to wait for lunch.
She was well-placed to witness the departure of the Winters, in an opulent hired car. After this nothing happened until the gong sounded, when she found she had the dining-room entirely to herself. The maid served her lunch with an air of patient reproach, on a tablecloth spread over one end of the table.
Miss Fisher put on her sun-glasses (the glare was beginning to be uncomfortable) and went back into the garden again. After all, she thought, the Winters might not have been leaving till after lunch; the afternoon would be the time for anyone to come back who might be hoping for a bit of peace. The end of the afternoon (she added to herself an hour later) in time for tea. The time passed slowly; she wondered whether the heat was making her wrist-watch lose.
Only one more event, however, broke her siesta before
Similar Books
