Read Online The Two Mrs. Abbotts by D. E. Stevenson - Free Book Online Page B

tomorrow—she keeps on changing her mind and it’s driving me mad. I don’t know where I am with her…”
    â€œLook here, Lancreste,” began Barbara.
    â€œNo,” he said, interrupting her. “No, it’s no use. I’ll just have to marry her and hope for the best. She’s ill—I told you that, didn’t I?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYes, ill in bed—and the rooms are awful. They didn’t look so bad when we took them and of course we thought she’d be out most of the time. I thought Mother would ask her—but Mother won’t—and there she is in bed. I don’t know what’s the matter with her. She won’t let me get the doctor.”
    â€œI’ll go and see her, Lancreste,” Barbara said. It seemed the only thing to say.
    â€œOh, Mrs. Abbott!” cried Lancreste. “Oh, if only you would! ”
    â€œI’ll get my hat,” said Barbara.
    As they walked along the street together toward Miss Besserton’s rooms Lancreste continued to talk about her, and (although his tale was extremely incoherent) a sort of composite picture of the unfortunate affair formed itself bit by bit in Barbara’s mind. He had met Pearl at a party in London and had fallen for her suddenly and completely. One moment she had meant nothing to him at all (she was just an ordinary girl that he had been introduced to at a party) and the next moment he was a slave. The odd thing was he appeared to have very few illusions about her; he seemed to realize she was as hard as nails and completely selfish, but still he was her slave, bound to her chariot wheels by chains of steel.
    Barbara listened. She did not understand the affair in the least, but that was not her fault. She did her best for Lancreste by listening intently…and as a matter of fact she was so unselfconscious by nature that it was easy to tell her things, so Lancreste found.
    Miss Besserton was lying in bed. She looked ill, but not very ill, and she had not omitted to paint her face, which was a good sign, Barbara thought. The room was awful—as Lancreste had said. It was untidy and sordid; the dressing table was covered with powder; garments lay about in confusion upon every available chair. Lancreste hovered around in an embarrassed manner, asking if he should open the window or light the gas fire or bring another pillow.
    â€œDo go away, Lanky,” said Miss Besserton, waving her hand.
    â€œI’ll wait in the hall,” said Lancreste humbly and he disappeared.
    Barbara moved some stockings off a chair and sat down near the bed. “I’m so sorry you’re ill,” she said sympathetically.
    â€œI’m miserable,” said Pearl. “Oh, it isn’t because I’m ill. There’s nothing much the matter with me—it’s just a chill or something. I’m miserable and I’m sick of everything—you know how you get sometimes.”
    â€œYes,” said Barbara, but she said it doubtfully for she could not remember feeling sick of everything. There was always so much to do and so many interesting people to see…but of course I’m lucky, thought Barbara.
    â€œI get like that sometimes,” continued Pearl. “It’s my temperament. I’m very artistic, you see. I get so as I feel I want to scream at people. Lanky drives me mad.”
    â€œHe’s very fond of you.”
    â€œOh yes, I know. We’re going to get married soon.”
    â€œWhy?” asked Barbara.
    Pearl laughed. “That’s a funny question! You got married yourself, didn’t you?”
    â€œBut if he drives you mad,” began Barbara patiently.
    â€œNot all the time, he doesn’t. Lanky can be quite good company sometimes.”
    Barbara was speechless.
    â€œI’ve knocked about a lot,” continued Pearl. “I left home when I was seventeen. It was too dull. Me and another girl took a flat in town—two