Read Online The Silent Pool by Patricia Wentworth - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Wentworth
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His eyes teased her. ‘You haven’t got as much as would lie on the edge of a sixpence – not if it means looking after yourself and seeing people don’t exploit you, and not working your fingers to the bone for them!’
She lifted a pair of small brown hands and let them fall in her lap again.
‘I wouldn’t just call them worked to the bone myself.’
‘Metaphorically speaking, they are. It’s just what I said – you’ve no sense. You let Star foist this job on you, and you let that fellow Hugo work all the flesh off your bones, the damned ass!’
‘He is not a damned ass!’
‘He is – and a poseur into the bargain!’
He was as dark as Star was fair. Janet suddenly realized that Stella was like him. There was the same nervous energy, the same black frown, and the dark spark of anger in the eyes. It danced there now as he leaned towards her and said,
‘You don’t know how to fight for yourself— that’s the trouble with you! You would be a bonnie fighter if you’d give your mind to it — I give you that! But you don’t! You’re thinking about the other person all the time, or you’re being too proud to bother!’
Just where were they going? They both knew well enough what he meant when he said she was too proud to fight. She had been too proud to fight for him. If he wanted Anne Forester, it wasn’t Janet Johnstone who would crook a finger to beckon him back.
‘Ninian, you’re talking nonsense.’
‘And why not? I can talk better nonsense than that if I’ve a mind to!’
He had leaned near enough to give her the feeling that she was hemmed in, his arm along the back of the seat, his slim length easy. She put out a hand to hold him off, and he laughed.
‘Ninian, you’ll wake Stella.’
He said in a laughing voice,
‘Well, I don’t want to do that! Let sleeping tigers lie! How do you get on with her?’
‘Very well.’
‘Had one of the famous screaming fits yet?’
‘She only has them when she’s bored.’
‘So she won’t have one with you – is that it?’
‘Of course.’
‘Our sainted Edna is enough to bore anyone. No wonder Geoffrey strays. And her face was her fortune, you know. At any rate it was all the fortune she had. So why on earth Geoffrey married her just has to take its place as one of those insoluble mysteries along with the Man in the Iron Mask and Who Killed the Princes in the Tower! It’s pretty certain Richard didn’t, because if he had, Henry VII would have tumbled over himself to accuse him after the battle of Bosworth. I hope you admire the versatility of my conversation. Or perhaps Hugo is so brilliant that no one else can compete!’
Janet allowed the dimple to come out. It was an attractive dimple.
‘You don’t get much brilliant conversation when you are taking things down in shorthand.’
‘You don’t mean to say you take down all that tripe in squiggles and dashes!’
‘Dashes are Morse, not shorthand.’
‘Darling, I can’t believe it. Shorthand! The only thing I can think of that would be worse would be a clattering typewriter, or Bernard Shaw’s reformed spelling! It would dry me right up!’
The dimple remained. Janet said nothing.
He struck the back of the seat with his hand.
‘This is where you ask me how I do my stuff!’
‘But I know — on odd bits of paper, all up and down and across, and someone has to sort it all out for you.’
‘I have to do it myself, darling. Janet, it serves you right!’
‘How does it serve me right?’
‘You might have had the job for keeps, but no, you went into a huff and walked out. I’m not angry you know – I’m just sorry for you having to take down that stuff of Hugo’s.’
‘It’s very good stuff.’ She spoke soberly. The dimple had disappeared.
Ninian ran an enraged hand through his hair and said,
‘All right, it is, then! And so what? You work for him, and you don’t have to bother with my wretched bits and pieces! He’s a best-seller, and I’m not and
She lifted a pair of small brown hands and let them fall in her lap again.
‘I wouldn’t just call them worked to the bone myself.’
‘Metaphorically speaking, they are. It’s just what I said – you’ve no sense. You let Star foist this job on you, and you let that fellow Hugo work all the flesh off your bones, the damned ass!’
‘He is not a damned ass!’
‘He is – and a poseur into the bargain!’
He was as dark as Star was fair. Janet suddenly realized that Stella was like him. There was the same nervous energy, the same black frown, and the dark spark of anger in the eyes. It danced there now as he leaned towards her and said,
‘You don’t know how to fight for yourself— that’s the trouble with you! You would be a bonnie fighter if you’d give your mind to it — I give you that! But you don’t! You’re thinking about the other person all the time, or you’re being too proud to bother!’
Just where were they going? They both knew well enough what he meant when he said she was too proud to fight. She had been too proud to fight for him. If he wanted Anne Forester, it wasn’t Janet Johnstone who would crook a finger to beckon him back.
‘Ninian, you’re talking nonsense.’
‘And why not? I can talk better nonsense than that if I’ve a mind to!’
He had leaned near enough to give her the feeling that she was hemmed in, his arm along the back of the seat, his slim length easy. She put out a hand to hold him off, and he laughed.
‘Ninian, you’ll wake Stella.’
He said in a laughing voice,
‘Well, I don’t want to do that! Let sleeping tigers lie! How do you get on with her?’
‘Very well.’
‘Had one of the famous screaming fits yet?’
‘She only has them when she’s bored.’
‘So she won’t have one with you – is that it?’
‘Of course.’
‘Our sainted Edna is enough to bore anyone. No wonder Geoffrey strays. And her face was her fortune, you know. At any rate it was all the fortune she had. So why on earth Geoffrey married her just has to take its place as one of those insoluble mysteries along with the Man in the Iron Mask and Who Killed the Princes in the Tower! It’s pretty certain Richard didn’t, because if he had, Henry VII would have tumbled over himself to accuse him after the battle of Bosworth. I hope you admire the versatility of my conversation. Or perhaps Hugo is so brilliant that no one else can compete!’
Janet allowed the dimple to come out. It was an attractive dimple.
‘You don’t get much brilliant conversation when you are taking things down in shorthand.’
‘You don’t mean to say you take down all that tripe in squiggles and dashes!’
‘Dashes are Morse, not shorthand.’
‘Darling, I can’t believe it. Shorthand! The only thing I can think of that would be worse would be a clattering typewriter, or Bernard Shaw’s reformed spelling! It would dry me right up!’
The dimple remained. Janet said nothing.
He struck the back of the seat with his hand.
‘This is where you ask me how I do my stuff!’
‘But I know — on odd bits of paper, all up and down and across, and someone has to sort it all out for you.’
‘I have to do it myself, darling. Janet, it serves you right!’
‘How does it serve me right?’
‘You might have had the job for keeps, but no, you went into a huff and walked out. I’m not angry you know – I’m just sorry for you having to take down that stuff of Hugo’s.’
‘It’s very good stuff.’ She spoke soberly. The dimple had disappeared.
Ninian ran an enraged hand through his hair and said,
‘All right, it is, then! And so what? You work for him, and you don’t have to bother with my wretched bits and pieces! He’s a best-seller, and I’m not and
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