I and My True Love by Helen MacInnes Page A

the moment was over, and she took Kate’s arm. As they left the room, Whiteshaw was adding another log to the fire, Minlow was attending to the drinks; Hallis was pulling a chair to form a half-circle with the others around the hearth; Payton was already seated, his long legs stretched comfortably towards the kindling flames.
    They climbed the narrow staircase slowly. “Who are the young men?” Kate asked suddenly.
    “Just friends of Payton’s. Whiteshaw is a career man in the State Department, like Martin Clark. He has a charming wife.”
    “Doesn’t she get lonely?” Kate asked. “All these evenings out at clubs and things?”
    “She has two children to keep her busy. They look like cherubs, with blond curls, and they behave like little devils.”
    “What about Minlow?”
    Sylvia smiled. “Did they make such an impression?” she asked in surprise.
    “No.” Or perhaps they had made an impression by impressing her so little. “No and yes,” she added, smiling too.
    “Minlow used to work with Payton. But he resigned last year as a protest. Oh, not against Payton! He just didn’t approve of investigations about government servants and their loyalty. I think he took it all as an insult.”
    “And Payton?” Payton, tonight, had made a biting reference to inquisitors and their high-handed methods.
    “He thought Minlow was hasty. But he does respect Minlow’s beliefs, and he didn’t like the way some people criticised him. So, Payton goes on seeing him as if nothing had happened.”
    “It must have been hard on Minlow.” Who would have guessed that a blank look could disguise so much determination? How surprising people could be...
    “Oh, he gets a good deal of praise, too.”
    “That’s all very well, but Minlow has to eat.” They had reached the landing now. Kate leaned against the wall beside her bedroom door. The cool air on the staircase had revived her: she didn’t feel like going to bed after all.
    “He doesn’t starve. He has a little money of his own, and no wife. And he’s been doing some free-lancing, too: he always wanted to write.”
    “I’d think he’d be a sensation in any press room. I never saw a reporter dressed like that. Or are they his off-duty clothes?”
    Sylvia opened the door of Kate’s room. Darling, she thought, I’m very fond of you, but tonight has been grim. Will it never end? “I’ve forgotten something I meant to tell you...” She frowned, but she couldn’t remember. She hadn’t remembered very much, tonight, she thought, except the talk about Jan. She would have to learn to guard herself better. Thank God that Payton hadn’t been at the dinner table.
    Kate was saying, “It’s funny, but I’m not the least tired, now. Why don’t you come into my room and we can talk? There is so much you have to tell me.”
    Sylvia’s face became very still. Then she forced a little smile. “You’re so tired that you can’t even make up your mind to move to bed,” she said, and she pushed Kate gently into her room. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.”
    “And we can talk then.”
    “Yes,” Sylvia said slowly. “Good night, Kate. Sleep well.”
    Kate gave her an impulsive hug. “Thank you for the dinner party,” she remembered to say. Then she closed the door and stood for a moment, recalling this evening. A strange evening, too... Or was it only she who was the stranger? At least, she was beginning to see some things more clearly. She was beginning to see why Sylvia had ever fallen in love with Payton. That was something that she couldn’t understand when she had met the Pleydells in 1947, at the time they visited San Francisco. But of course, she told herself patronisingly, you were only a schoolgirl then, rebellious and bored by being dragged into the city to meet relatives who couldn’t come out to the ranch to visit you.
    Then she moved slowly away from the door. She looked at the bed, turned down, inviting. Perhaps she was tired after all; perhaps