Read Online So Disdained by Nevil Shute - Free Book Online
Authors: Nevil Shute
Tags: General Fiction
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from the keys and turned to Lenden. "That's the bear," I said.
"By God," he muttered. "I don't wonder she got the wind up."
[Pg 42] I think it may have been his simplicity that roused me to a sense of his position, and made me swing round suddenly upon my stool.
"See here," I said. "What about you, Lenden? D'you want to stay here? You can if you like, you know. There's a bedroom in there, and you're welcome to it for as long as you want it. Or are you going on up to Town?"
He shifted his position uneasily, and avoided my eyes. "I don't quite know what to do," he said uncertainly. "I've got these ruddy plates to get rid of. . . ."
His eyes, when I saw them, were half-closed and very bright; he had flushed up, and altogether he looked a pretty sick man. I'm no doctor, but I got up and took his wrist. His pulse seemed to be over-revving badly, and he was very hot. I was morally certain that if he went travelling alone he'd end his journey in a London hospital, and I said as much.
"I know." He pressed both hands to his forehead for a moment, and passed them back over his hair. "It's this infernal fever . . . and getting wet. I'm in for a searcher this time."
I met his eyes and held them for a moment. "You'd better get to bed," I said. "There's nobody comes to this house but me and the servants. I'll say that I brought you back with me from Winchester."
I doubt if he heard what I said. "It always shakes me when I get a bout like this," he muttered. "It was different when Mollie was there."
He was shivering again. "Lie up here for a day or two, till you're fit," I suggested. "Then you can go on to Town when you like. You can't go travelling like this."
"I'd ha' been all right if I'd got tight last night," he said. "I knew this was coming."
I went through into the spare bedroom. There was a greyness over everything by now; in the sitting-room the lamps were burning yellow in the growing morning light. I found sheets and blankets under the coverlet, and made up the bed for him. When that was done, I went back to the sitting-room. He was [Pg 43] still turning that black box over and over in his hands, uncertainly.
I filled a kettle and put it on the fire to boil. "Room's ready when you are," I said. "You'd better go to bed—and stay there. I'll get you a hot-water bottle, soon as this boils."
"It's damn good of you," he muttered. He went through into the bedroom and began to undress.
Presently the kettle boiled. I took the bottle in to him and found him in bed; he was very grateful in an inarticulate sort of way. I cut him short, went out of the room, and left him to go to sleep.
Back in the sitting-room I stood for a minute looking at myself in the glass over the mantelpiece. I can't say it was a pretty sight. I was still in evening kit, but my tie had worked up towards one ear, and my trousers were smeared with mud from the down. The room was littered and squalid in the grey light; the electric lights unwholesome, and the remains of supper on the table an offence. Only the white keys and rosewood of the piano by the window appeared clean in that room.
I went into my bedroom, undressed, and had a bath. That pulled me round a bit. Half an hour later, when I had shaved, dressed, and flung open the window in the sitting-room, I was more or less myself again.
It was a cloudless morning. Over the kitchen garden the sun was rising through the mists left by the rain and in the stable eaves the birds were beginning softly, like a bit of Grieg. I went to the door of my house and looked out over the yard. Nobody was stirring yet, nor would be for half an hour to come, unless some under-housemaid in the mansion.
I had a job of work to do before breakfast, but I needed the help of one or two labourers for it, and I knew that it was no good going out to look for them for a bit. I shut the door and went back to the sitting-room, and kicked the dying fire together, and stood over it for a little. And then, since there was nothing
"By God," he muttered. "I don't wonder she got the wind up."
[Pg 42] I think it may have been his simplicity that roused me to a sense of his position, and made me swing round suddenly upon my stool.
"See here," I said. "What about you, Lenden? D'you want to stay here? You can if you like, you know. There's a bedroom in there, and you're welcome to it for as long as you want it. Or are you going on up to Town?"
He shifted his position uneasily, and avoided my eyes. "I don't quite know what to do," he said uncertainly. "I've got these ruddy plates to get rid of. . . ."
His eyes, when I saw them, were half-closed and very bright; he had flushed up, and altogether he looked a pretty sick man. I'm no doctor, but I got up and took his wrist. His pulse seemed to be over-revving badly, and he was very hot. I was morally certain that if he went travelling alone he'd end his journey in a London hospital, and I said as much.
"I know." He pressed both hands to his forehead for a moment, and passed them back over his hair. "It's this infernal fever . . . and getting wet. I'm in for a searcher this time."
I met his eyes and held them for a moment. "You'd better get to bed," I said. "There's nobody comes to this house but me and the servants. I'll say that I brought you back with me from Winchester."
I doubt if he heard what I said. "It always shakes me when I get a bout like this," he muttered. "It was different when Mollie was there."
He was shivering again. "Lie up here for a day or two, till you're fit," I suggested. "Then you can go on to Town when you like. You can't go travelling like this."
"I'd ha' been all right if I'd got tight last night," he said. "I knew this was coming."
I went through into the spare bedroom. There was a greyness over everything by now; in the sitting-room the lamps were burning yellow in the growing morning light. I found sheets and blankets under the coverlet, and made up the bed for him. When that was done, I went back to the sitting-room. He was [Pg 43] still turning that black box over and over in his hands, uncertainly.
I filled a kettle and put it on the fire to boil. "Room's ready when you are," I said. "You'd better go to bed—and stay there. I'll get you a hot-water bottle, soon as this boils."
"It's damn good of you," he muttered. He went through into the bedroom and began to undress.
Presently the kettle boiled. I took the bottle in to him and found him in bed; he was very grateful in an inarticulate sort of way. I cut him short, went out of the room, and left him to go to sleep.
Back in the sitting-room I stood for a minute looking at myself in the glass over the mantelpiece. I can't say it was a pretty sight. I was still in evening kit, but my tie had worked up towards one ear, and my trousers were smeared with mud from the down. The room was littered and squalid in the grey light; the electric lights unwholesome, and the remains of supper on the table an offence. Only the white keys and rosewood of the piano by the window appeared clean in that room.
I went into my bedroom, undressed, and had a bath. That pulled me round a bit. Half an hour later, when I had shaved, dressed, and flung open the window in the sitting-room, I was more or less myself again.
It was a cloudless morning. Over the kitchen garden the sun was rising through the mists left by the rain and in the stable eaves the birds were beginning softly, like a bit of Grieg. I went to the door of my house and looked out over the yard. Nobody was stirring yet, nor would be for half an hour to come, unless some under-housemaid in the mansion.
I had a job of work to do before breakfast, but I needed the help of one or two labourers for it, and I knew that it was no good going out to look for them for a bit. I shut the door and went back to the sitting-room, and kicked the dying fire together, and stood over it for a little. And then, since there was nothing
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