arrangements…’
She
rose and bade them come and see the Sanctuary. Glancing back she noticed Ronald
taking his pills and washing them down with water.
‘Aren’t
you feeling well?’ she said.
‘Ronald
suffers from indigestion,’ Tim said.
‘My
dear boy, was my cooking so frightful?’
Ronald
could not reply. He stood gripping the back of his chair. His eyes were open
and, for a moment, quite absent.
But his
attack passed and he regained control of himself while Tim and his aunt were
still staring at him, Tim fearing the worst and Marlene fascinated.
‘Are
you psychic?’ she said.
‘I don’t
know.’
He
followed Tim into the Sanctuary, on the threshold of which Marlene took Ronald’s
arm.
‘I do
believe,’ she said, ‘that you are sensitive to the atmosphere of this flat. For
a moment, just now, I thought you were going into a trance. I am psychic, you
know. I’m certain you would make an excellent medium, if properly trained.’
On the
way home, before they parted, Tim said to Ronald,
‘I
adore her, really.’
‘A
good-looking woman,’ Ronald said.
‘She
was a beauty in her day. Of course, she’s a bit crackers. There is some thing,
you know, in her spiritualism, but she hasn’t a clue how to cope with it. She
cheats like anything herself — thinks it’s justified.’
‘It’s a
difficult thing to cope with, I should think.’
‘I can’t
cope with it,’ Tim said. ‘The awkward thing is, how am I going to get out of it?’
‘You’ll
find a way.’
‘Oh, I’ll
find a way. Only I don’t want to fall out with Marlene, you know. What did you
honestly think of her, quite honestly?’
‘Rather
charming,’ Ronald said, quite honestly.
Nevertheless,
when Martin Bowles rang him up later in the evening and said ‘Come along to
Isobel’s for supper: she wants you for supper,’ Ronald replied that he was
engaged. One auntie, he thought, is enough for one Sunday. Enough is always
enough.
‘God save me,’ said
Matthew Finch, London correspondent of the Irish Echo, ‘and help me in
my weakness.’ He was peeling an onion. Tears still brimmed over his eyelashes
when the telephone rang. ‘Let it not be an occasion of sin,’ he said to himself
or to God as he went over to answer it.
‘Hallo,’
he said, apprehensively, although he knew, really, who would speak.
‘Elsie
speaking,’ said Elsie Forrest.
‘Oh
yes, Elsie. Hallo, Elsie.’
‘You
expecting me, Matthew? You said Sunday, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,
Elsie, I want you to come. Will you find your way? A tube to South Kensington,
then a 30 bus, and you get off at Drayton Gardens. I’ll meet you at the bus
stop. You’ll be there by quarter to six.’
‘Well,
I was thinking of getting the Underground to—’
‘No,
no, the bus from South Kensington is better. I’ll wait from quarter to six.’
‘All
right, Matthew.’
Elsie
had not come to his flat before. He had really preferred the other girl in the
coffee-bar, Alice Dawes, but she was tied up to a man. On the whole, he had
been glad to discover Elsie. Not that he needed to have taken up with either of
them. But, yes, he did want to know a girl again, since his previous girl had
gone to America and he felt lonely in London without one. Alice Dawes with her
black piled-up hair was the handsomer of the two, but Elsie Forrest was the
more accessible.
‘God
help me with my weakness,’ said Matthew as he went back to his onion. For he
was weak with girls and had a great conscience about sex. It had been easier in
Dublin where the bachelors protected their human nature by staying long hours
in the public houses. He was not sure what he would do with Elsie. He had to
prepare some supper, but she would do the cooking. He was not sure what to do with
the onion, and he weighed up what the force of Elsie’s attraction was likely to
be, and how the evening would turn out. It was for this that he had prepared
the onion. For he had found that the smell of onion in
She
rose and bade them come and see the Sanctuary. Glancing back she noticed Ronald
taking his pills and washing them down with water.
‘Aren’t
you feeling well?’ she said.
‘Ronald
suffers from indigestion,’ Tim said.
‘My
dear boy, was my cooking so frightful?’
Ronald
could not reply. He stood gripping the back of his chair. His eyes were open
and, for a moment, quite absent.
But his
attack passed and he regained control of himself while Tim and his aunt were
still staring at him, Tim fearing the worst and Marlene fascinated.
‘Are
you psychic?’ she said.
‘I don’t
know.’
He
followed Tim into the Sanctuary, on the threshold of which Marlene took Ronald’s
arm.
‘I do
believe,’ she said, ‘that you are sensitive to the atmosphere of this flat. For
a moment, just now, I thought you were going into a trance. I am psychic, you
know. I’m certain you would make an excellent medium, if properly trained.’
On the
way home, before they parted, Tim said to Ronald,
‘I
adore her, really.’
‘A
good-looking woman,’ Ronald said.
‘She
was a beauty in her day. Of course, she’s a bit crackers. There is some thing,
you know, in her spiritualism, but she hasn’t a clue how to cope with it. She
cheats like anything herself — thinks it’s justified.’
‘It’s a
difficult thing to cope with, I should think.’
‘I can’t
cope with it,’ Tim said. ‘The awkward thing is, how am I going to get out of it?’
‘You’ll
find a way.’
‘Oh, I’ll
find a way. Only I don’t want to fall out with Marlene, you know. What did you
honestly think of her, quite honestly?’
‘Rather
charming,’ Ronald said, quite honestly.
Nevertheless,
when Martin Bowles rang him up later in the evening and said ‘Come along to
Isobel’s for supper: she wants you for supper,’ Ronald replied that he was
engaged. One auntie, he thought, is enough for one Sunday. Enough is always
enough.
‘God save me,’ said
Matthew Finch, London correspondent of the Irish Echo, ‘and help me in
my weakness.’ He was peeling an onion. Tears still brimmed over his eyelashes
when the telephone rang. ‘Let it not be an occasion of sin,’ he said to himself
or to God as he went over to answer it.
‘Hallo,’
he said, apprehensively, although he knew, really, who would speak.
‘Elsie
speaking,’ said Elsie Forrest.
‘Oh
yes, Elsie. Hallo, Elsie.’
‘You
expecting me, Matthew? You said Sunday, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,
Elsie, I want you to come. Will you find your way? A tube to South Kensington,
then a 30 bus, and you get off at Drayton Gardens. I’ll meet you at the bus
stop. You’ll be there by quarter to six.’
‘Well,
I was thinking of getting the Underground to—’
‘No,
no, the bus from South Kensington is better. I’ll wait from quarter to six.’
‘All
right, Matthew.’
Elsie
had not come to his flat before. He had really preferred the other girl in the
coffee-bar, Alice Dawes, but she was tied up to a man. On the whole, he had
been glad to discover Elsie. Not that he needed to have taken up with either of
them. But, yes, he did want to know a girl again, since his previous girl had
gone to America and he felt lonely in London without one. Alice Dawes with her
black piled-up hair was the handsomer of the two, but Elsie Forrest was the
more accessible.
‘God
help me with my weakness,’ said Matthew as he went back to his onion. For he
was weak with girls and had a great conscience about sex. It had been easier in
Dublin where the bachelors protected their human nature by staying long hours
in the public houses. He was not sure what he would do with Elsie. He had to
prepare some supper, but she would do the cooking. He was not sure what to do with
the onion, and he weighed up what the force of Elsie’s attraction was likely to
be, and how the evening would turn out. It was for this that he had prepared
the onion. For he had found that the smell of onion in
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