of surprise. “Am I still supposed to be calling you Miss Blaney?”
“Of course not!”
“Then perhaps you could bring yourself to call me Robert?”
Her heart lurched against her ribs. “If—if you don’t mind, I’d like to.”
His grey eyes met hers. “You’re a funny girl,” he remarked. “Don’t you think you have enough to do, looking after your father, without doing anything else?”
“I thought so for a while,” she admitted soberly. “But the truth is that if I go on like this for very much longer I shall be really bored.”
“Have you never lived in the country before?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s that though— I mean, I should feel exactly the same in London, or anywhere!”
“You’re not missing the theatre?”
She looked straight at him for the first time, her eyes laughing. “It’s terrible of me, but I don’t think I am. I’d like to do something ordinary for a bit, something that wouldn’t interfere with my father when he doesn’t feel well. Do you know of anything like that I might do?”
“If I did I’m not sure I'd tell you about it,” he said at last. “I don’t approve of people playing at work. It’s almost as bad as playing with other people’s lives.”
“Oh, surely not! Besides, I wouldn’t be playing! I really need something to do. I’d do it as well as I possibly could, whatever it was, whether it was paid or not. I do know what work is!”
“In the theatre?”
She found that she was angry. She turned away from him and studied the river intently, following a small fish with her eyes as it swam against the rippling current close to the opposite bank. She felt his hand on her shoulder and shrugged away from him, her muscles tensing.
“I’m sorry,” Robert said. “How would you like to work as my secretary?”
She was surprised into forgetting her momentary anger. “Haven’t you got one? Besides, I don’t know all the legal terms you use and—and I haven’t any shorthand.”
“But you can type?”
She nodded. “Enough to make copies of scripts and things like that.”
Robert sat up straight, making sure that he had her whole attention. “I have an excellent secretary in Canterbury. I was thinking of the Chaddoxboume estate. At the moment I fit in the work attached to that when I can and hope for the best, but I’ve been thinking for some time that I ought to arrange things better. It would involve sorting out the tenants’ problems, writing piles of letters to the various government departments, sending out receipts for rents, and making the plumber call when anyone springs a leak. Do you think you could do all that?”
“I could try.”
“I’d expect you to keep regular hours, except when your father needs you. You won’t be able to come and go as you like.”
“Of course not,” she said simply. “It would be a business arrangement.” Her face broke into laughter. “Are you going to make me sign a legal contract?”
“Not until I see if you’re going to be of any use,” he returned. He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Not quite as meek as you appear at first, are you ?”
She blushed, looked at her watch, and leaped to her feet. “I must get my father’s tea,” she said in a breathless voice. “Would you care to join us?” He shook his head, grinning up at her. “Robert, it is settled, isn’t it? I mean I should like to have the job.”
“Then it’s yours.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you very much.” She hesitated an instant, half expecting him to qualify her appointment with some remark about a trial period, but he was silent, his grey eyes looking mockingly up at her.
“Well?”
“N-nothing,” she stammered, and almost ran along the path to the oast-house, her heart hammering within her in the most uncomfortable manner.
Her pace slowed down as soon as she was out of sight of the river. Her pleasure in the idea of working for Robert fountained up within her. She would be
“Of course not!”
“Then perhaps you could bring yourself to call me Robert?”
Her heart lurched against her ribs. “If—if you don’t mind, I’d like to.”
His grey eyes met hers. “You’re a funny girl,” he remarked. “Don’t you think you have enough to do, looking after your father, without doing anything else?”
“I thought so for a while,” she admitted soberly. “But the truth is that if I go on like this for very much longer I shall be really bored.”
“Have you never lived in the country before?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s that though— I mean, I should feel exactly the same in London, or anywhere!”
“You’re not missing the theatre?”
She looked straight at him for the first time, her eyes laughing. “It’s terrible of me, but I don’t think I am. I’d like to do something ordinary for a bit, something that wouldn’t interfere with my father when he doesn’t feel well. Do you know of anything like that I might do?”
“If I did I’m not sure I'd tell you about it,” he said at last. “I don’t approve of people playing at work. It’s almost as bad as playing with other people’s lives.”
“Oh, surely not! Besides, I wouldn’t be playing! I really need something to do. I’d do it as well as I possibly could, whatever it was, whether it was paid or not. I do know what work is!”
“In the theatre?”
She found that she was angry. She turned away from him and studied the river intently, following a small fish with her eyes as it swam against the rippling current close to the opposite bank. She felt his hand on her shoulder and shrugged away from him, her muscles tensing.
“I’m sorry,” Robert said. “How would you like to work as my secretary?”
She was surprised into forgetting her momentary anger. “Haven’t you got one? Besides, I don’t know all the legal terms you use and—and I haven’t any shorthand.”
“But you can type?”
She nodded. “Enough to make copies of scripts and things like that.”
Robert sat up straight, making sure that he had her whole attention. “I have an excellent secretary in Canterbury. I was thinking of the Chaddoxboume estate. At the moment I fit in the work attached to that when I can and hope for the best, but I’ve been thinking for some time that I ought to arrange things better. It would involve sorting out the tenants’ problems, writing piles of letters to the various government departments, sending out receipts for rents, and making the plumber call when anyone springs a leak. Do you think you could do all that?”
“I could try.”
“I’d expect you to keep regular hours, except when your father needs you. You won’t be able to come and go as you like.”
“Of course not,” she said simply. “It would be a business arrangement.” Her face broke into laughter. “Are you going to make me sign a legal contract?”
“Not until I see if you’re going to be of any use,” he returned. He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Not quite as meek as you appear at first, are you ?”
She blushed, looked at her watch, and leaped to her feet. “I must get my father’s tea,” she said in a breathless voice. “Would you care to join us?” He shook his head, grinning up at her. “Robert, it is settled, isn’t it? I mean I should like to have the job.”
“Then it’s yours.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you very much.” She hesitated an instant, half expecting him to qualify her appointment with some remark about a trial period, but he was silent, his grey eyes looking mockingly up at her.
“Well?”
“N-nothing,” she stammered, and almost ran along the path to the oast-house, her heart hammering within her in the most uncomfortable manner.
Her pace slowed down as soon as she was out of sight of the river. Her pleasure in the idea of working for Robert fountained up within her. She would be
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