Testimony Of Two Men by Taylor Caldwell

like whiskey, too.”
    “Good,” said Harald. He struck a bell on the table near his elbow. The sound was abrupt in that peaceful stillness. A moment later an elderly man in a white jacket came to the door. “Three whiskies and soda, Albert,” said Harald, in his kind voice. “Please.”
    The old man smiled at him like a father. “Surely, Mr. Ferrier,” he said. “At once.”
    “And would you mind, Albert, asking Miss Heger to join us here? You could bring the sherry for her, too.”
    “Whiskey,” said Jonathan, still not turning his head.
    “Oh, come now, Jon! Don’t be disagreeable. Jenny doesn’t drink whiskey! She’s a lady.”
    Jonathan yawned. “She usually drinks whiskey, too. Don’t put on for Bob.”
    Harald still smiled. But his eyes looked pained and Robert was sorry for him. Harald nodded to Albert. “Four whiskies, then.” He hesitated. “You’ll be giving Dr. Morgan a bad impression of us here, Jon.”
    “He’ll get worse, in the town.” Jonathan spoke indifferently. He looked now at Robert. “My mother drinks whiskey and likes it. And why not? Such stupidity, thinking women are better, or worse, than men.”
    Robert did not know what to say. He wished that Jonathan were less intolerable. But Harald was saying with enthusiasm, “Hambledon is a splendid town, really! You’ll enjoy it, Doctor. Nothing like Philadelphia, of course, but nicer in many ways—”
    “Why, then, are you always scheming with lawyers to leave it?” asked Jonathan.
    Harald immediately became serious. He leaned earnestly toward his brother. “Now, Jon. You know that’s not true. Isn’t Hambledon my home? Didn’t I always return to it when—”
    “Papa’s money began to run out, or he refused you any more.”
    Harald laughed lightly. “Oh, come on, Jon! This is Dr. Morgan’s first visit here and—”
    “We mustn’t give him a bad impression. Yes, I know. But do you expect he’ll never hear about us in the town? There’re hundreds of old biddies of both sexes who’ll be only too anxious to tell him all about the Ferriers. Better if he hears it at firsthand.”
    “You make us sound disreputable, or something.”
    “And that’s what we are.”
    Harald was silent. He continued to smile, however. The door opened and Jenny came out upon the terrace. She had removed her brown apron, but her blue cotton dress was stained here and there, carelessly, with earth, as if she had come fresh from the garden. Her expression was sullen and remote. She did not look at any of the men, and did not acknowledge them when they rose and greeted her. She moved quickly, with the awkwardness of a colt, to a distant chair, sat down, turned her face away, and folded her large white hands in her lap.
    Robert looked at her profile furtively. Close at hand as she was, she appeared almost incredibly beautiful, her brow and fine nose and white chin thrown into relief by the vivid water, her black hair tumbling in the manner of a schoolgirl about her long pale neck and rigid shoulders, and then dropping down her straight back. She had a remarkably sweet breast, high and firm; her waist was very small; her hips swelled under her dress with grace and smoothness. Robert thought that never had he seen a girl so extraordinarily lovely. He saw the glint of fierce blue between her black lashes, intent, as aware as an animal’s, and as unmoved, but watchful and full of enmity.
    “I’ve ordered whiskey and soda for you, Jenny,” said Harald in a very gentle voice, almost pleading. “I’m glad you can join us.”
    She gave no indication that she had heard him. Her sullen expression did not change. Why, she hates him! thought Robert. Then he had another thought: No, it was Jonathan whom she hated. She had seen him, and Robert, in the grove of trees after all. In that unpolluted air a good eye could detect anybody across even a mile of water. Robert became uncomfortable. As he stared at the girl like a boy he felt his nape tingle and