Alphonsine to death, but he would never break the rules, either morally or socially, and he would invest her money profitably. He neither gambled nor drank.
Claudine pulled herself up sharply. She was being horribly unfair, and unkind. She did not know Ernest Halversgate. Plenty of people who were interesting and witty were also cruel, and what good was all the entertainment in the world without kindness? She should stop making assumptions about his personality. Dutifully she looked back at the stage until the intermission.
She had not wished to meet the Foxleys and the Crostwicks, but Wallace did, so it was unavoidable. She should have expected it. It was very possibly why they were here in the first place. The romantic comedy was hardly to Wallace’s taste, and she knew of no reason why he would imagine it was hers.
Close up, Eppy looked even more striking. Claudine was pleased she had worn something so unusual herself. Her height made her additionally noticeable, and ina manner quite uncharacteristic for her, she enjoyed being noticed.
“How extremely well you look.” Eppy said it in a tone of voice that was hardly complimentary, as if Claudine had been fading away the last time they had met.
“How generous of you,” Claudine murmured, meaning anything one cared to attribute to it.
Verena Foxley smiled as if nothing ever troubled her. She was rather like a swan gliding above the water, Claudine thought. Such elegant and regal birds, but heaven only knew what their feet were doing beneath the surface.
“What a delightful occasion,” Claudine went on. It was only fair to Wallace that at least she try. “It quite puts me in the mood for Christmas.”
“I was already in the mood for Christmas,” Eppy said, with her eyebrows arched in surprise.
“So I observe,” Verena murmured, glancing at Eppy’s hair.
Claudine had a ridiculous image of the whole coiffure decked with tinsel and candles, and the desire to laugh was so overwhelming she snatched a handkerchief from her reticule and buried her face in it as if she had a fit of uncontrollable sneezing. She dared not look at Verena.
“I’ve heard no news of that wretched man Tregarron, have you, Burroughs?” Martin Crostwick said with a gesture of distaste. “I don’t know why the devil the police can’t catch him. It would seem simple enough. Dammit, even if he wasn’t dangerous, the man’s a bad influence on others. I can’t understand it, but young men are apparently fools enough to admire his … I don’t know what! Disregard for anything to do with decency.”
“Don’t worry,” Eppy comforted him. “Their attention has been well and truly curtailed, and it was slight enough anyway. Tregarron’s a fugitive now, and no one will give him food or shelter, let alone friendship. I think the whole miserable disaster happened at a very fortunate time. Decent young men will have had a sharp lesson against keeping bad company.” She looked pointedly at Claudine.
Claudine wanted to come up with some scathing reply about fair trial and assumption of innocence, but no coherent words came to her quickly enough.
“I daresay, he’ll leave the country,” Wallace put in, perhaps afraid that Claudine was going to speak. He avoided looking at her. “After this, there’s really nothing left for him in England. All he has is his reputation,and that’s gone, as it deserves to be. A lot of it was built on hot air anyway.”
This time Claudine did not stop to think.
“It’s built on a large body of poetry,” she said fiercely, “that is all rooted in the valleys of Wales, the hills and the coastline, the history. Even those with no Welsh ancestry at all find a familiarity in it. He’d die away from his own places. Where on earth could he go? He’d be a stranger always.”
“Then he should have lived a decent life, instead of drinking himself half senseless and going from woman to woman,” Wallace said extremely sharply. It was intended to
Claudine pulled herself up sharply. She was being horribly unfair, and unkind. She did not know Ernest Halversgate. Plenty of people who were interesting and witty were also cruel, and what good was all the entertainment in the world without kindness? She should stop making assumptions about his personality. Dutifully she looked back at the stage until the intermission.
She had not wished to meet the Foxleys and the Crostwicks, but Wallace did, so it was unavoidable. She should have expected it. It was very possibly why they were here in the first place. The romantic comedy was hardly to Wallace’s taste, and she knew of no reason why he would imagine it was hers.
Close up, Eppy looked even more striking. Claudine was pleased she had worn something so unusual herself. Her height made her additionally noticeable, and ina manner quite uncharacteristic for her, she enjoyed being noticed.
“How extremely well you look.” Eppy said it in a tone of voice that was hardly complimentary, as if Claudine had been fading away the last time they had met.
“How generous of you,” Claudine murmured, meaning anything one cared to attribute to it.
Verena Foxley smiled as if nothing ever troubled her. She was rather like a swan gliding above the water, Claudine thought. Such elegant and regal birds, but heaven only knew what their feet were doing beneath the surface.
“What a delightful occasion,” Claudine went on. It was only fair to Wallace that at least she try. “It quite puts me in the mood for Christmas.”
“I was already in the mood for Christmas,” Eppy said, with her eyebrows arched in surprise.
“So I observe,” Verena murmured, glancing at Eppy’s hair.
Claudine had a ridiculous image of the whole coiffure decked with tinsel and candles, and the desire to laugh was so overwhelming she snatched a handkerchief from her reticule and buried her face in it as if she had a fit of uncontrollable sneezing. She dared not look at Verena.
“I’ve heard no news of that wretched man Tregarron, have you, Burroughs?” Martin Crostwick said with a gesture of distaste. “I don’t know why the devil the police can’t catch him. It would seem simple enough. Dammit, even if he wasn’t dangerous, the man’s a bad influence on others. I can’t understand it, but young men are apparently fools enough to admire his … I don’t know what! Disregard for anything to do with decency.”
“Don’t worry,” Eppy comforted him. “Their attention has been well and truly curtailed, and it was slight enough anyway. Tregarron’s a fugitive now, and no one will give him food or shelter, let alone friendship. I think the whole miserable disaster happened at a very fortunate time. Decent young men will have had a sharp lesson against keeping bad company.” She looked pointedly at Claudine.
Claudine wanted to come up with some scathing reply about fair trial and assumption of innocence, but no coherent words came to her quickly enough.
“I daresay, he’ll leave the country,” Wallace put in, perhaps afraid that Claudine was going to speak. He avoided looking at her. “After this, there’s really nothing left for him in England. All he has is his reputation,and that’s gone, as it deserves to be. A lot of it was built on hot air anyway.”
This time Claudine did not stop to think.
“It’s built on a large body of poetry,” she said fiercely, “that is all rooted in the valleys of Wales, the hills and the coastline, the history. Even those with no Welsh ancestry at all find a familiarity in it. He’d die away from his own places. Where on earth could he go? He’d be a stranger always.”
“Then he should have lived a decent life, instead of drinking himself half senseless and going from woman to woman,” Wallace said extremely sharply. It was intended to
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