even though she was shaking inside.
'Is this your final word?' he enquired grimly, and silently she nodded.
'Very well.'
With a defeated gesture he turned aside, and her enforced stand crumbled. He was accepting her word, she thought disbelievingly, and the fruits of victory were like ashes in her mouth.
Rachid moved towards the door, but before opening it, he had something else to say. 'There is one thing I would ask gf you,' he said quiedy, his expression unreadable as she swung round on her heels, trying to appear unconcerned.
'Yes? What is it?'
'I wish you would have dinner with me tomorrow evening,' he said, much to her astonishment. 'There are matters we must discuss if you are determined to destroy our marriage, and I prefer to do my bargaining on my own ground, if you do not mind.'
Abby licked her dry lips. 'Your own ground ...'
'My hotel,' he averred smoothly. 'You know it. Will you have dinner with me there at—say, eight o'clock tomorrow evening?'
Abby was cautious. 'How do I know‑'
'Do you not think it is a small favour to ask?' he enquired, a little of the harshness returning to his tones at her hesitation. 'You are still my wife, Abby, whether you like it or not, and you owe me something for the time we spent together.'
Abby was tempted to argue, but there was a certain truth in what he said. She had had everything he could materially offer her, and perhaps she owed him something for that, if nothing else. Either way, she knew her father would not condone her denying him an evening of her company, and he was right, there were matters to discuss, not least their divorce.
'All right,' she said now, 'I'll come. But‑'
'No buts, Abby,' he countered abrupdy, cutting off her tentative qualification. 'Eight o'clock. I will expect you!' And pulling open the door, he wished her a curt good evening.
Her father appeared as soon as the outer door had closed behind Rachid, coming into the study enquiringly, his narrow face creased into a frown. He gave his daughter a curious glance, then said half apologetically:
'What could I do? He insisted on staying until you got back.'
Abby gave a sigh of resignation, and then put out her hand, as if in acknowledgement. 'I know. I know what Rachid's like. But what did you say to him? Did you let him think there was some chance that I might change my mind?'
'No!' But Professor Gillespie looked slightly discomfited by her candour. 'But—well, Abby, you know how I feel. Marriage is a sacred covenant, not to be entered into lightly. Nor should it be broken in the same way.'
Abby gasped. 'You think what Rachid did isn't a serious matter?'
Professor Gillespie fumbled for his pipe. 'I think you're too emotional, Abby. I always have. There's more to a relationship than—than the physical aspect. Your mother and I‑'
'Were you ever unfaithful to Mummy?' demanded Abby hody, overriding his protest. 'How many mistresses did you keep in various parts of the city?'
'Don't be ridiculous, child!' Her father's nostrils flared as he strove to keep his temper. 'You know perfectly well‑'
'Yes, I know perfectly well that you never had any mistresses, nor did you sire any bastard children! And that's my point precisely. You can't compare your marriage to mine, or your behaviour with Rachid's!'
The following evening Abby dressed for her dinner date with increasing apprehension. All day she had fretted with uncertainty, tempted every other minute to ring the hotel and make some excuse. But she knew if she did, Rachid would only find some other way to see her, and at least this way she was prepared.
Nevertheless, she couldn't help wishing she had held out for a more formal meeting, an interview in the company of his solicitor or hers, with all the protection that the legal profession could provide. She had been a fool to agree to this inevitably unpleasant tete-a-tete, but his unexpected capitulation had temporarily robbed her of her powers of reasoning, ft had not helped to
'Is this your final word?' he enquired grimly, and silently she nodded.
'Very well.'
With a defeated gesture he turned aside, and her enforced stand crumbled. He was accepting her word, she thought disbelievingly, and the fruits of victory were like ashes in her mouth.
Rachid moved towards the door, but before opening it, he had something else to say. 'There is one thing I would ask gf you,' he said quiedy, his expression unreadable as she swung round on her heels, trying to appear unconcerned.
'Yes? What is it?'
'I wish you would have dinner with me tomorrow evening,' he said, much to her astonishment. 'There are matters we must discuss if you are determined to destroy our marriage, and I prefer to do my bargaining on my own ground, if you do not mind.'
Abby licked her dry lips. 'Your own ground ...'
'My hotel,' he averred smoothly. 'You know it. Will you have dinner with me there at—say, eight o'clock tomorrow evening?'
Abby was cautious. 'How do I know‑'
'Do you not think it is a small favour to ask?' he enquired, a little of the harshness returning to his tones at her hesitation. 'You are still my wife, Abby, whether you like it or not, and you owe me something for the time we spent together.'
Abby was tempted to argue, but there was a certain truth in what he said. She had had everything he could materially offer her, and perhaps she owed him something for that, if nothing else. Either way, she knew her father would not condone her denying him an evening of her company, and he was right, there were matters to discuss, not least their divorce.
'All right,' she said now, 'I'll come. But‑'
'No buts, Abby,' he countered abrupdy, cutting off her tentative qualification. 'Eight o'clock. I will expect you!' And pulling open the door, he wished her a curt good evening.
Her father appeared as soon as the outer door had closed behind Rachid, coming into the study enquiringly, his narrow face creased into a frown. He gave his daughter a curious glance, then said half apologetically:
'What could I do? He insisted on staying until you got back.'
Abby gave a sigh of resignation, and then put out her hand, as if in acknowledgement. 'I know. I know what Rachid's like. But what did you say to him? Did you let him think there was some chance that I might change my mind?'
'No!' But Professor Gillespie looked slightly discomfited by her candour. 'But—well, Abby, you know how I feel. Marriage is a sacred covenant, not to be entered into lightly. Nor should it be broken in the same way.'
Abby gasped. 'You think what Rachid did isn't a serious matter?'
Professor Gillespie fumbled for his pipe. 'I think you're too emotional, Abby. I always have. There's more to a relationship than—than the physical aspect. Your mother and I‑'
'Were you ever unfaithful to Mummy?' demanded Abby hody, overriding his protest. 'How many mistresses did you keep in various parts of the city?'
'Don't be ridiculous, child!' Her father's nostrils flared as he strove to keep his temper. 'You know perfectly well‑'
'Yes, I know perfectly well that you never had any mistresses, nor did you sire any bastard children! And that's my point precisely. You can't compare your marriage to mine, or your behaviour with Rachid's!'
The following evening Abby dressed for her dinner date with increasing apprehension. All day she had fretted with uncertainty, tempted every other minute to ring the hotel and make some excuse. But she knew if she did, Rachid would only find some other way to see her, and at least this way she was prepared.
Nevertheless, she couldn't help wishing she had held out for a more formal meeting, an interview in the company of his solicitor or hers, with all the protection that the legal profession could provide. She had been a fool to agree to this inevitably unpleasant tete-a-tete, but his unexpected capitulation had temporarily robbed her of her powers of reasoning, ft had not helped to
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