all these years. And so will her ladyship be. You're in the east room, sir. I think you'll find everyone in the garden, unless you want to go to your room first.”
Thomas shook his head. He went through the drawing-room to the window, which opened on to the terrace. He stood there a moment, watching unobserved himself.
Two women were the only occupants of the terrace. One was sitting on the corner of the balustrade looking out over the water. The other woman was watching her.
The first was Audrey - the other, he knew, must be Kay Strange. Kay did not know she was being overlooked and she took no pains to disguise her expression. Thomas Royde was not, perhaps, a very observant man where
women were concerned, but he could not fail to notice that Kay Strange disliked Audrey Strange very much.
As for Audrey, she was looking out across the river and seemed unconscious of, or indifferent to, the other's presence.
It was seven years since Thomas had seen Audrey Strange. He studied her now very carefully. Had she changed, and, if so, in what way?
There was a change, he decided. She was thinner, paler, altogether more ethereal-looking - but there was something else, something he could not quite define. It was as though she were holding herself tightly in leash, watchful over every movement - and yet all the time intensely aware of everything going on round her. She was like a person, he thought, who had a secret to hide. But what secret? He knew a little of the events that had befallen her in the last few years. He had been prepared for lines of sorrow and loss - but this was something else. She was like a child who, by a tightly clenched hand over a treasure, calls attention to what it wants to hide.
And then his eyes went to the other woman - the girl who was now Nevile Strange's wife. Beautiful, yes. Mary Aldin had been right. He rather fancied dangerous, too. He thought: I wouldn't like to trust her near Audrey if she had a knife in her hand ... And yet, why should she hate Nevile's first wife? All that was over and done with. Audrey had no part or parcel in their lives nowadays.
Footsteps rang out on the terrace as Nevile came round the corner of the house. He looked warm and was carrying a picture paper. “Here's the Illustrated Review,” he said. “Couldn't get the other -”
Then two things happened at precisely the same minute.
Kay said: “Oh, good, give it to me,” and Audrey, without moving her head, held out her hand almost absent-mindedly.
Nevile had stopped half-way between the two women. A dawn of embarrassment showed in his face. Before he could speak, Kay said, her voice rising with a slight note of hysteria, “I want it. Give it me! Give it me, Nevile!”
Audrey Strange started, turned her head, withdrew her hand and murmured with just the slightest air of confusion : “Oh, sorry. I thought you were speaking to me, Nevile.”
Thomas Royde saw the colour come up brick-red in Nevile Strange's neck. He took three quick steps forward and held out the picture paper to Audrey.
She said, hesitating, her air of embarrassment growing: “Oh, but -”
Kay pushed back her chair with a rough movement. She stood up, then, turning, she made for the drawing-room window. Royde had no time to move before she had charged into him blindly.
The shock made her recoil; she looked at him as he apologised. He saw then why she had not seen him; her eyes were brimming with tears - tears, he fancied, of anger.
“Hullo,” she said. “Who are you? Oh! of course, the man from Malaya!” “Yes,” said Thomas. “I'm the man from Malaya.”
“I wish to God I was in Malaya,” said Kay. “Anywhere but here! I loathe this beastly, lousy house! I loathe everyone in it!”
Emotional scenes always alarmed Thomas. He regarded Kay warily and murmured nervously: “Ah - hum.”
“Unless they're very careful,” said Kay, “I shall kill someone! Either Nevile or that whey-faced cat out there!”
She brushed past him and
Thomas shook his head. He went through the drawing-room to the window, which opened on to the terrace. He stood there a moment, watching unobserved himself.
Two women were the only occupants of the terrace. One was sitting on the corner of the balustrade looking out over the water. The other woman was watching her.
The first was Audrey - the other, he knew, must be Kay Strange. Kay did not know she was being overlooked and she took no pains to disguise her expression. Thomas Royde was not, perhaps, a very observant man where
women were concerned, but he could not fail to notice that Kay Strange disliked Audrey Strange very much.
As for Audrey, she was looking out across the river and seemed unconscious of, or indifferent to, the other's presence.
It was seven years since Thomas had seen Audrey Strange. He studied her now very carefully. Had she changed, and, if so, in what way?
There was a change, he decided. She was thinner, paler, altogether more ethereal-looking - but there was something else, something he could not quite define. It was as though she were holding herself tightly in leash, watchful over every movement - and yet all the time intensely aware of everything going on round her. She was like a person, he thought, who had a secret to hide. But what secret? He knew a little of the events that had befallen her in the last few years. He had been prepared for lines of sorrow and loss - but this was something else. She was like a child who, by a tightly clenched hand over a treasure, calls attention to what it wants to hide.
And then his eyes went to the other woman - the girl who was now Nevile Strange's wife. Beautiful, yes. Mary Aldin had been right. He rather fancied dangerous, too. He thought: I wouldn't like to trust her near Audrey if she had a knife in her hand ... And yet, why should she hate Nevile's first wife? All that was over and done with. Audrey had no part or parcel in their lives nowadays.
Footsteps rang out on the terrace as Nevile came round the corner of the house. He looked warm and was carrying a picture paper. “Here's the Illustrated Review,” he said. “Couldn't get the other -”
Then two things happened at precisely the same minute.
Kay said: “Oh, good, give it to me,” and Audrey, without moving her head, held out her hand almost absent-mindedly.
Nevile had stopped half-way between the two women. A dawn of embarrassment showed in his face. Before he could speak, Kay said, her voice rising with a slight note of hysteria, “I want it. Give it me! Give it me, Nevile!”
Audrey Strange started, turned her head, withdrew her hand and murmured with just the slightest air of confusion : “Oh, sorry. I thought you were speaking to me, Nevile.”
Thomas Royde saw the colour come up brick-red in Nevile Strange's neck. He took three quick steps forward and held out the picture paper to Audrey.
She said, hesitating, her air of embarrassment growing: “Oh, but -”
Kay pushed back her chair with a rough movement. She stood up, then, turning, she made for the drawing-room window. Royde had no time to move before she had charged into him blindly.
The shock made her recoil; she looked at him as he apologised. He saw then why she had not seen him; her eyes were brimming with tears - tears, he fancied, of anger.
“Hullo,” she said. “Who are you? Oh! of course, the man from Malaya!” “Yes,” said Thomas. “I'm the man from Malaya.”
“I wish to God I was in Malaya,” said Kay. “Anywhere but here! I loathe this beastly, lousy house! I loathe everyone in it!”
Emotional scenes always alarmed Thomas. He regarded Kay warily and murmured nervously: “Ah - hum.”
“Unless they're very careful,” said Kay, “I shall kill someone! Either Nevile or that whey-faced cat out there!”
She brushed past him and
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