Inspirations

‘Oh – I’d tell Clifford. I’d have to tell him.’

‘Would you!’

He remained silent. She put her arms fast round his neck.

‘Don’t make it difficult for me,’ she pleaded.

‘Make what difficult?’

‘For me to go to Venice – and arrange things.’

A little smile, half a grin, flickered on his face.

‘I don’t make it difficult,’ he said. ‘I only want to find out just what you’re after. But you don’t really know yourself. You want to take time: get away and look at it. I don’t blame you. I think you’re wise. You may pref

er to stay mistress of Wragby. I don’t blame you. I’ve no Wragbys to offer. In fact, you know what you’ll get out of me. No no, I think you’re right! I really do! And I’m not keen on coming to live on you, being kept by you. There’s that too.’

She felt, somehow, as if he were giving her tit for tat.

‘But you want me, don’t you?’ she asked.

‘Do you want me?’

‘You know I do. That’s evident.’

‘Quite! And when do you want me?’

‘You know we can arrange it all when I come back. Now I’m out of breath with you. I must get calm and clear.’

‘Quite! Get calm and clear!’

She was a little offended.

‘But you trust me, don’t you?’ she said.

‘Oh, absolutely!’

She heard the mockery in his tone.

‘Tell me then,’ she said flatly; ‘do you think it would be better if I don’t go to Venice?’

‘I’m sure it’s better if you do go to Venice,’ he replied, in the cool, slightly mocking voice.

‘You know it’s next Thursday?’ she said.

‘Yes!’

She now began to muse. At last she said:

‘And we shall know better where we are when I come back, shan’t we?’

‘Oh surely!’

The curious gulf of silence between them!

‘I’ve been to the lawyer about my divorce,’ he said, a little constrainedly.

She gave a slight shudder.