LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

was over he could go where he liked, and enjoy himself as he pleased. And at this time he was enjoying himself to the full.

      "Pam, I've got something to tell you," he said as they went down into the wood together.

      "Is it the real thing this time?" she asked, with a quick smiling glance at his face.

      "Oh, none of the others have been anything—just fancies—boyish fancies, you know."

      He laughed gaily. He was very good to look at, with his close-cropped shapely head thrown back on the firm column of his neck. Pam smiled up at him again, with a sort of proprietary fondness. She admired him, as she had always admired him ever since she could remember, and had never met a young man whom she thought his equal. And it was a source of pride to her that he was one of her own family—to all intents and purposes a brother. Poor Hugo, over whose death she had cried, as something strange and unexpected and infinitely pathetic, had been a kind brother to her—she liked to remember that the last time she had said good-bye to him, never to see him again, he had given her ten pounds to spend as she liked—but he had never made a confidante of her, as Norman had always done. She had known very little of Hugo's life as it was spent away from Hayslope, but she thought she knew all about Norman's life. He had fallen in love once or twice, and had always told her everything about it. Hugo seemed to have gone through life without falling in love. Poor Hugo! She could not but believe, from her intimate talks with Norman, that he had died without acquiring the crown of his manhood. Norman was attractive under the influence of his love affairs, and she was not surprised that he had them continually, though she saw quite plainly that without some such guidance as she was fortunately able to give him he might have got into trouble with them. Men were so foolish where girls were concerned. Even the best of them, who had a lot to give—like Norman—fell in love with girls who were in no way their equals. But it never did to tell them so. Give them all sympathy and affection, and the affair died away of itself. So it had been three times with Norman already, and Pamela, who had been a little alarmed over the first affair, was confirmed in the belief that she had dealt most wisely with each situation as it had arisen. Still, the genuine lasting emotion must come into play sooner or later. There must be, somewhere, a girl who was worthy of such a rare prize as Norman's love, and Pamela had always told herself that when that girl was found she would welcome her whole-heartedly.

      "Yes, you've been in love with love," she said impressively; and they both laughed, for this was a quotation.

      "Trying my wings," said Norman. "They were all dears, but there wasn't enough to them when it came down to the things one is interested in."

      "Well, now I'm free to speak," said Pamela, "I'll confess that they seemed to me a set of brainless idiots. I hope the new one has got some intelligence. It would be such an advantage if you had to spend your life with her. She's pretty, of course. Have you got a photograph of her?"

      "Not a proper one. I'm not up to that point yet."

      "Worshipping at a distance?"

      "No, not exactly. We've danced together a lot in London, and been the greatest pals. Really, I've been rather clever about it. She's very young—only in her first season. She's out to have a jolly good time, but her life isn't only amusement. She's slogging hard at the piano. She'd like to be a pro, but of course her people won't let her."

      "Why not?"

      "Oh, well, her father's a Duke. She's Lady Margaret Joliffe. I dare say you've seen pictures of her in the papers. But they don't do her justice. She's perfectly lovely. Oh, I've got it terrible bad this time, Pam."

      "Yes, I've seen her pictures. She's very pretty indeed," said Pam. "And Jim knows her. He says she's very clever."

      The time seemed to have come at last, then. If Norman succeeded in winning a girl like this, nobody could say he was not getting as good as he gave, not even Pam, who thought that hardly anybody would be good enough for him. Yet she did not experience the quick sense of pleasure which she had persuaded herself would be her response whenever Norman did come to announce the real thing.

      "Oh, clever!" repeated Norman. "That's not the word for her. She knows. She's got extraordinary perceptions for a girl of her age. It isn't only music. It's books, and art—everything that's jolly and interesting. And she's such fun with it all. No more of a highbrow than you are. In fact, she's the only girl I've ever met who sees things in the way that you do."

      Pamela did feel some pleasure at this. "That's topping," she said. "Of course prettiness isn't everything. I suppose the others were pretty, except the girl with a squint; but they—"

      "Oh, come now, Pam, she hadn't got a squint. She—"

      "Well, a slight cast in the eye, then; and some people think it an added beauty. But they all seemed to have the brains of rabbits. I was beginning to think that you never would fall in love with anybody that had got beyond Short Division. Of course I'm glad you've found somebody intelligent at last. But do you mean to say that you never got beyond talking about Hanbert and Ravel and Augustus John with her?"

      Norman looked at her with a slightly pained expression. "Pam dear!" he expostulated. "Why this acidulation?"

      Pamela laughed, and they began again. "Well, it's really rather exciting," she said. "Do tell me about it, Norman. You haven't told me anything yet. When did you catch fire?"

      His face took on a beatific expression. "Well, I'd held off just a trifle," he said. "We'd had a topping time together here and there. She always seemed to be pleased to see me, but—well, there was generally the old Duchess somewhere in the background; she's not really old, of course, but—You see, it seemed to be flying a bit high for me. I was at school with Cardiff—her brother—and he was in the Regiment too for a bit."

      "Whose brother? The Duchess's?"

      "No. Margaret's."

      "Do you call her Margaret?"

      "Well, I was going to tell you. I lunched with them at the Harrow match. Duchess rather cordial. Duke ditto. He used to be a bit of a cricketer, and he knew I'd got my Eleven at Eton. I was feeling a bit bucked with myself—seemed to be getting a sort of domestic hold, you know. So I plumped myself down beside her, without being invited to do so, and she didn't turn me away. I made her laugh. I believe I made them all laugh at our end of the table. I was feeling good and happy, you know, and rather let myself go. So after lunch I asked her to perambulate with me; and we perambulated. I don't think it was quite in the bargain. I could amuse them as a bright young lad, while they were stuffing, but I mustn't take liberties. She gave a sort of quick look at the old Dutch, and said: 'Yes, come along; we'll run away.' The old Dutch caught us with her eye as we were twinkling off, and called out, 'Margaret!' But Margaret wasn't taking any, so we had a very pleasant half-hour together, and she gave me most of her dates."

      "Most of her dates!"

      "Oh, we weren't eating 'em out of a paper bag. I found out most of the places she was going to when they left London. I don't anticipate an invitation to Balmoral, or anything of that sort; but Goodwood's open to everybody, and there are one or two houses in Scotland I think I can wangle myself into later on, and there's a chance of her going to the Canterbury cricket week. If she does, Norman Eldridge will also take part in that festival. Oh, it's not over yet, by any means. By the time I have to resume my studies at Cambridge University, I hope—"

      "Yes, but what about—?"

      "Wait a minute. You're in such a hurry. I took her back to the Dukeries. They were in a box, and fortunately Cardiff was there. He'd been off on a little line of his own at lunch, and I hadn't seen him for some time. His welcome was obstreperous. He was feeling good and happy himself, owing to his own particular fairy smiling on him, I suppose. He'd brought her with him. She was some peach."

      "Oh, never mind about her. Stick to the point."

      "I did. I took advantage of the genial atmosphere, and brought the old Dutch into it. She didn't want to laugh at first, but I made her. I wanted to remove the impression that I was a sort of snatch-lady pirate, but only wanted

Скачать книгу