The Young Intruder by Eleanor Farnes Page A

her. In the half-dark of the restricted space, she suddenly found her heart beating very quickly; and felt the wildest impulse to turn completely into the circle of his arms. All she could think, over and over again, was Peter, Peter, Peter.
    Footsteps were heard on the stairs above. Somebody was coming down. She straightened herself, most reluctantly.
    “All right?” asked Peter.
    “Fine, thank you,” she said, and wondered at herself for sounding pleasantly normal. They went on to the top, and stood for a long time looking out at the vastness of London, while Peter identified for her the domes and spires and famous buildings. But when he suggested lunch, she was glad to go down with him. A lot of her excitement had evaporated now. It was replaced by something else, something close and warm and wonderful that made her quieter than usual. Peter, sitting opposite her at a table for two, in one of London’s older Fleet Street restaurants, noticed that her eyes were shining, that she looked happy, and that her lips were very ready to curve into a smile; and thought she was already recovering from the sadness of her mother’s death. He supposed that this was how she had been before that unhappy event, and that the sadness had been unusual for her.
    They completed an afternoon of sight-seeing, but when Peter suggested that Alison might like to dine out, she shook her head.
    “I would like it very much, Peter,” she said, “but I think I ought to go back and have dinner with Douglas.”
    He agreed at once, but stipulated that he must take her out to dinner another night instead. They returned to the house in Mayfair, and while Peter glanced through some telephone messages that had been left for him, Alison ran upstairs to find Douglas. He was in the drawing room reading, but his face lit up as she came into the room.
    “Missed me?” she asked cheerfully, holding out a hand to him. He took it in both of his own, and held on to it hard. “God, yes, I’ve missed you,” he said. “It’s been a long day, Alison.”
    She thought guiltily how it had flown past for herself. She knelt down beside his chair, her h and still in his.
    “Douglas,” she said, speaking swiftly, “we ought to do something about you, Liebchen. It isn’t right, or necessary, to leave you here all day. You could ride in the car, couldn’t you? You could have a chair for outside. I could take you into the park, and all sorts of places.”
    “Do you think I’d allow you to do that?” he asked.
    “Why not?” She was transparently honest, her wide grey eyes fixed on his. “I would love to do it. Oh, Douglas, we could have fun together, watching people, looking at shops. We could buy books together ... And I can drive, Douglas. If Peter let us have the car sometimes, I could take you for drives. Darling, why should you have long, lonely days by yourself?”
    He looked at her small, oval face, so close to his own, at the wide eyes, the beautiful skin, the white teeth. He thought she had the most beautiful expression, at that moment, that he had ever seen, all her thought for somebody else, all her anxiety for him. He said: “Alison, you are a lovely girl,” and he kissed the hand that he held in his own.
    It was this that Peter heard and saw as he came into the room through the open doorway. It gave him pause, and sudden new thoughts came into his mind. But Douglas was completely unperturbed. He said:
    “Hallo, Pete. Has she worn you out with all this sight-seeing?”
    “Not quite. I would have gone on and taken her out to dinner, but she insisted on coming back here, to have it with you.”
    “I know. She would. Do you know what she suggests now? That I should have an outside chair so that she can take me into the park, like a nursemaid.”
    “Oh, Douglas,” said Alison reproachfully, but she saw that he was laughing at her, that he was, in truth, pleased because she thought about him, and she laughed too. Peter, watching them, and