Doctor's Assistant by Celine Conway Page B

her around in his rooms.
    A moment or two later Laurette entirely forgot Ben, for Charles sauntered in, handsome and nonchalant. His flickering glance appraised her, he smiled as if what he saw had his approval, and without volition she warmed.
    For Laurette, that night was one she could look back upon with a kind of nostalgia; it gleamed with freshness and a dawning beauty which she later came to realize had been the first shy awakening. She had known no pain, no premonitory bitterness; only a sense of expanding happiness and delight.
    The guests arrived amid chatter and goodwill. The clinking of glasses mingled with laughter, some of it hearty gusts from her father. The dinner was excellent, and coffee on the veranda was cooling, particularly as the boys served it in glasses with ice.
    The lounge floor was cleared and the gramophone set going. Laurette danced several times, was complimented and questioned about what she usually did with her leisure. The whole atmosphere had the headiness of good wine.
    It was about ten-thirty, when she was tiring a little, that Charles took her outside.
    “You’ve danced enough,” he said. “The way to get the best from life is to be moderate in all things. You should intersperse the dancing with serious discussion.”
    She sighed with pleasure and made a grimace. “Who wants serious discussion on a night like this? I feel so happy, Charles.”
    “Do you?” They were walking slowly along the dark garden path and he looked down curiously at the pure outline of her face and creamy shoulders. “Happiness usually depends on other people. Who’s at the root of yours?”
    She raised her glance to him, the free, unguarded glance of the truly young and happy. “My father, Mr. Kelsey ... and you. I think it’s knowing that people care about you that makes you happy.”
    “I haven’t said I care about you!”
    She laughed a little. “I meant that in its most distant application. Heaven forbid that I should saddle you with a little sister. I ask no more than a cessation of hostilities.”
    “If you had less intelligence,” he said deliberately, “I’d get very annoyed with you.”
    Tonight her tongue seemed to run on little silver wheels. ‘Why?” she smilingly cast up at him. “Have I pricked your pride? I’d hate to do anything unforgivable.”
    “Be quiet,” he said.
    They reached the deodar and the white stone garden seat. He gave her a gentle push that compelled her to sit down, and hitched his trousers to lower himself beside her. His arm lay along the back of the seat, but he was not looking her way.
    He nodded in the direction of the sea. “I like the sound of it at night. I like nights on board, too. Which way did you come to South Africa—west coast?”
    “Yes. The east is best, isn’t it?”
    “It’s more spectacular. I went home that way—spent a week in Madagascar and another in Zanzibar. You can smell the cloves of Zanzibar fifty miles away.”
    “I’ll go there one day.”
    Teasingly, he tugged a curl at the back of her head. “You’ve plenty of time; plenty of time for everything—and that includes falling in love.”
    “Falling in love must be rather nice,” she said musingly, “so long as one doesn’t hurry it. Have you ever been in love, Charles?”
    “My dear child,” he said tersely, “there are some topics which are only permissible if handled with adult sophistication. One doesn’t blandly ask a man of thirty-four if he’s ever been in love.”
    “Oh, dear,” she murmured. “I ought to have taken it for granted.”
    “And don’t tell yourself that this love business is the prerogative of adolescents. The real sort requires much more knowledge and experience than you young things can possibly possess.”
    “I’ve put myself in the infant class again,” she said ruefully. “I do think you might help me to learn all these subtleties.”
    “Why should I teach you how to respond to some other man? In any case, when the time comes