Read Online Sparkling Cyanide by Agatha Christie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Agatha Christie
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I've thought sometimes that we're stupid to go on trying to carry on this hole-and-corner business. It's not worthy, somehow. Let's go away together. Let's stop pretending. George will divorce me and your wife will divorce you and then we can get married.”
Just like that! Disaster! Ruin! And she couldn't see it!
“I wouldn't let you do such a thing.”
“But darling, I don't care. I'm not really very conventional.”
“But I am. But I am,” thought Stephen.
“I do feel that love is the most important thing in the world. It doesn't matter what people think of us.”
“It would matter to me, my dear. An open scandal of that kind would be the end of my career.”
“But would that really matter? There are hundreds of other things that you could do.”
“Don't be silly.”
“Why have you got to do anything anyway? I've got lots of money, you know. Of my own, I mean, not George's. We could wander about all over the world, going to the most enchanting out-of-the-way places - places, perhaps, where nobody else has ever been. Or to some island in the Pacific - think of it, the hot sun and the blue sea and the coral reefs.”
He did think of it. A South Sea Island! Of all the idiotic ideas. What sort of a man did she think he was - a beachcomber?
He looked at her with eyes from which the last traces of scales had fallen. A lovely creature with brains of a hen! He'd been mad - utterly and completely mad. But he was sane again now. And he'd got to get out of this fix. Unless he was careful she'd ruin his whole life.
He said all the things that hundreds of men had said before him. They must end it all - so he wrote. It was only fair to her. He couldn't risk bringing unhappiness on her. She didn't understand - and so on and so on.
It was all over - he must make her understand that.
But that was just what she refused to understand. It wasn't to be as easy as that.
She adored him, she loved him more than ever, she couldn't live without him! The only honest thing was for her to tell her husband, and for Stephen to tell his wife the truth! He remembered how cold he had felt as he stood holding her letter. The little fool! The silly clinging fool! She'd go and blab the whole thing to George Barton and then George would divorce her and cite him as co-respondent.
And Sandra would per force divorce him too. He hadn't any doubt of that. She had spoken once of a friend, had said with faint surprise, “But of course when she found out he was having an affair with another woman, what else could she do but divorce him?” That was what Sandra would feel. She was proud. She would never share a man.
And then he would be done, finished - the influential Kidderminster backing would be withdrawn. It would be the kind of scandal that he would not be able to live down, even though public opinion was broader-minded than it used to be. But not in a flagrant case like this! Good-bye to his dreams, his ambitions. Everything wrecked, broken - all because of a crazy infatuation for a silly woman. Calf love, that was all it had been. Calf love contracted at the wrong time of life.
He'd lose everything he'd staked. Failure! Ignominy!
He'd lose Sandra...
And suddenly, with a shock of surprise he realised that it was that that he would mind most. He'd lose Sandra. Sandra with her square white forehead and her clear hazel eyes. Sandra, his dear friend and companion, his arrogant, proud, loyal Sandra. No, he couldn't lose Sandra - he couldn't... Anything but that.
The perspiration broke out on his forehead. Somehow he must get out of this mess. Somehow he must make Rosemary listen to reason... But would she? Rosemary and reason didn't go together. Supposing he were to tell her that, after all, he loved his wife?
No. She simply wouldn't believe it. She was such a stupid woman. Empty-headed, clinging, possessive. And she loved him still - that was the mischief of it.
A kind of blind rage rose up in him. How on earth was he to keep her
Just like that! Disaster! Ruin! And she couldn't see it!
“I wouldn't let you do such a thing.”
“But darling, I don't care. I'm not really very conventional.”
“But I am. But I am,” thought Stephen.
“I do feel that love is the most important thing in the world. It doesn't matter what people think of us.”
“It would matter to me, my dear. An open scandal of that kind would be the end of my career.”
“But would that really matter? There are hundreds of other things that you could do.”
“Don't be silly.”
“Why have you got to do anything anyway? I've got lots of money, you know. Of my own, I mean, not George's. We could wander about all over the world, going to the most enchanting out-of-the-way places - places, perhaps, where nobody else has ever been. Or to some island in the Pacific - think of it, the hot sun and the blue sea and the coral reefs.”
He did think of it. A South Sea Island! Of all the idiotic ideas. What sort of a man did she think he was - a beachcomber?
He looked at her with eyes from which the last traces of scales had fallen. A lovely creature with brains of a hen! He'd been mad - utterly and completely mad. But he was sane again now. And he'd got to get out of this fix. Unless he was careful she'd ruin his whole life.
He said all the things that hundreds of men had said before him. They must end it all - so he wrote. It was only fair to her. He couldn't risk bringing unhappiness on her. She didn't understand - and so on and so on.
It was all over - he must make her understand that.
But that was just what she refused to understand. It wasn't to be as easy as that.
She adored him, she loved him more than ever, she couldn't live without him! The only honest thing was for her to tell her husband, and for Stephen to tell his wife the truth! He remembered how cold he had felt as he stood holding her letter. The little fool! The silly clinging fool! She'd go and blab the whole thing to George Barton and then George would divorce her and cite him as co-respondent.
And Sandra would per force divorce him too. He hadn't any doubt of that. She had spoken once of a friend, had said with faint surprise, “But of course when she found out he was having an affair with another woman, what else could she do but divorce him?” That was what Sandra would feel. She was proud. She would never share a man.
And then he would be done, finished - the influential Kidderminster backing would be withdrawn. It would be the kind of scandal that he would not be able to live down, even though public opinion was broader-minded than it used to be. But not in a flagrant case like this! Good-bye to his dreams, his ambitions. Everything wrecked, broken - all because of a crazy infatuation for a silly woman. Calf love, that was all it had been. Calf love contracted at the wrong time of life.
He'd lose everything he'd staked. Failure! Ignominy!
He'd lose Sandra...
And suddenly, with a shock of surprise he realised that it was that that he would mind most. He'd lose Sandra. Sandra with her square white forehead and her clear hazel eyes. Sandra, his dear friend and companion, his arrogant, proud, loyal Sandra. No, he couldn't lose Sandra - he couldn't... Anything but that.
The perspiration broke out on his forehead. Somehow he must get out of this mess. Somehow he must make Rosemary listen to reason... But would she? Rosemary and reason didn't go together. Supposing he were to tell her that, after all, he loved his wife?
No. She simply wouldn't believe it. She was such a stupid woman. Empty-headed, clinging, possessive. And she loved him still - that was the mischief of it.
A kind of blind rage rose up in him. How on earth was he to keep her
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