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Authors: Kathryn Blair
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air. One of the card - players laughed. The cards clicked as they were shuffled and re-dealt.
“Do you blame Baird for marrying?” said Adrian.
“No. Rosita knew what she was doing, and I’m sure she doesn’t regret it.”
“But in your opinion she made a mistake, or perhaps was misled by Baird himself? You wouldn’t compete with a man’s profession for his affections?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” She raised her head, met his eyes challengingly. “And I doubt if the man exists who would willingly tolerate his wife having equal fondness for her career as for him.” She thought of something and qualified the assertion. “Doctors are different, aren’t they? They mostly marry nurses.”
“I believe they do,” he said, and took a pace or two to the low wall to scan the heavens. For an expanding moment he stood there, with his back to her.
Undecidedly, Lyn remained seated for a further few seconds before she, also rose, and made a movement towards the steps. “If the interview is ended I’ll return to my lair.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
They crossed the compound without speaking, but at Lyn’s house he gave her a laconic little bow.
“Don’t take Merrick too seriously. He’s not entirely past reclamation, but he has no real desire for it, and even if he began to reform it wouldn’t last. Good night, Lynden.”
Very clearly she answered, “Good night, Dr. Sinclair,” and she turned to run up the steps.
In the living-room lingered the smell of fly-spray; the flowers were drooping with the vapor and the insect corpses were many. With a gesture of irritation Lyn dropped Roger’s racquet upon a chair. “Lynden,” indeed — and with a sarcastic inflection which reduced her once more to nuisance proportions. How she loathed the man!
Perhaps “loathed” was not exactly the word. She disliked him and was irritated by his offhandedness about the purpose of her presence in West Africa. It seemed that he could attach no significance at all either to Mrs. Latimer’s research work in the field of anthropology or to Lyn’s potential importance as the woman’s companion and helper. Carelessly, this afternoon, he had informed her that his letter to Mrs. Latimer would be delayed, and left her to infer that she might be held at Denton for three or four weeks. No word of apology for having inveigled her here from Cape Bandu, which was only four days or so away from her destination.
Lyn thought about the route which had been chosen for her by Mrs. Latimer with definite, longing. But even Claud had said that it could not be accomplished without a male companion; the missionary, Robert Grayson, could have been trusted, but Claud couldn’t think of one man in Palmas whom he would care to appoint her guide and guardian. He was no good at bush-tre k king himself, “And, candidly,” he had assured her with a grin, I wouldn’t trust myself either. Don’t tempt me, my pigeon.”
Once or twice Lyn had thought of asking one of the Denton supervisors to drive her back to Cape Bandu and select a dozen bearers. She was aware, though, that there was not a man among them who would flout Adrian Sinclair, not one who would even want to. She sighed, decided not to change before her meal, and went through to see what was doing in the kitchen.
CHAPTER SIX
By degrees, during the next few days, she realized that Claud could do nothing to help her reach Akasi. Blithely he described his efforts to bribe various officials to arrange the trip for her, by road and sea. Finally, in the middle of the next week, he told her easily,
“It’s hopeless, Lyn. Everyone insists that you’re better off here than inland, and I must agree with them. After all, this extraordinary woman brought you out from England and it’s her duty to come for you. I’ve done my utmost but I’m not sorry to have drawn blank. You’re the sweetest thing that’s happened to me in years. I can’t lose you yet.”
Lyn did not permit
“Do you blame Baird for marrying?” said Adrian.
“No. Rosita knew what she was doing, and I’m sure she doesn’t regret it.”
“But in your opinion she made a mistake, or perhaps was misled by Baird himself? You wouldn’t compete with a man’s profession for his affections?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” She raised her head, met his eyes challengingly. “And I doubt if the man exists who would willingly tolerate his wife having equal fondness for her career as for him.” She thought of something and qualified the assertion. “Doctors are different, aren’t they? They mostly marry nurses.”
“I believe they do,” he said, and took a pace or two to the low wall to scan the heavens. For an expanding moment he stood there, with his back to her.
Undecidedly, Lyn remained seated for a further few seconds before she, also rose, and made a movement towards the steps. “If the interview is ended I’ll return to my lair.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
They crossed the compound without speaking, but at Lyn’s house he gave her a laconic little bow.
“Don’t take Merrick too seriously. He’s not entirely past reclamation, but he has no real desire for it, and even if he began to reform it wouldn’t last. Good night, Lynden.”
Very clearly she answered, “Good night, Dr. Sinclair,” and she turned to run up the steps.
In the living-room lingered the smell of fly-spray; the flowers were drooping with the vapor and the insect corpses were many. With a gesture of irritation Lyn dropped Roger’s racquet upon a chair. “Lynden,” indeed — and with a sarcastic inflection which reduced her once more to nuisance proportions. How she loathed the man!
Perhaps “loathed” was not exactly the word. She disliked him and was irritated by his offhandedness about the purpose of her presence in West Africa. It seemed that he could attach no significance at all either to Mrs. Latimer’s research work in the field of anthropology or to Lyn’s potential importance as the woman’s companion and helper. Carelessly, this afternoon, he had informed her that his letter to Mrs. Latimer would be delayed, and left her to infer that she might be held at Denton for three or four weeks. No word of apology for having inveigled her here from Cape Bandu, which was only four days or so away from her destination.
Lyn thought about the route which had been chosen for her by Mrs. Latimer with definite, longing. But even Claud had said that it could not be accomplished without a male companion; the missionary, Robert Grayson, could have been trusted, but Claud couldn’t think of one man in Palmas whom he would care to appoint her guide and guardian. He was no good at bush-tre k king himself, “And, candidly,” he had assured her with a grin, I wouldn’t trust myself either. Don’t tempt me, my pigeon.”
Once or twice Lyn had thought of asking one of the Denton supervisors to drive her back to Cape Bandu and select a dozen bearers. She was aware, though, that there was not a man among them who would flout Adrian Sinclair, not one who would even want to. She sighed, decided not to change before her meal, and went through to see what was doing in the kitchen.
CHAPTER SIX
By degrees, during the next few days, she realized that Claud could do nothing to help her reach Akasi. Blithely he described his efforts to bribe various officials to arrange the trip for her, by road and sea. Finally, in the middle of the next week, he told her easily,
“It’s hopeless, Lyn. Everyone insists that you’re better off here than inland, and I must agree with them. After all, this extraordinary woman brought you out from England and it’s her duty to come for you. I’ve done my utmost but I’m not sorry to have drawn blank. You’re the sweetest thing that’s happened to me in years. I can’t lose you yet.”
Lyn did not permit
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