A Pigeon Among the Cats Read Online Free PDF

went on, “you haven’t told me half that sad story of yours.”
    Gwen fumbled in her handbag for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. But to her annoyance and alarm the tears refused to flow. She tried to sob but it did not sound very convincing.
    â€œGo ahead,” Owen said calmly, disregarding these efforts. “Or would you rather I waved to Mrs. Lawler?”
    â€œYou dare!” Gwen sat up straight in genuine alarm. “Besides,” she added waspishly, “she’s heard the lot. All eleven years of it.”
    â€œI bet she hasn’t. No, don’t tell me. Just get on with the last six, was it? After you discovered about the girl in Croydon.”
    â€œI told him I had enough evidence to divorce him and had a very good mind to do it.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you?”
    â€œI wasn’t sure his business wasn’t cracking. I wasn’t going to be left with nothing. And her to have what there was.”
    Owen smiled again.
    â€œDid you tell that sensible decision to Mrs. Highbrow Lawler?”
    â€œWhat d’ you think?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t like it if I did.”
    Owen’s face was still pleasantly comic, but his voice held a cutting note that stopped Gwen’s breath. He glanced at her, but waited patiently. He was in no immediate hurry.
    At last she said, changing the subject, “I thought you said you were going to Naples?”
    â€œI did. And I was.”
    â€œTo stay with friends.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen why are you back?”
    â€œThe visit was over. I wanted to come back. Don’t say why to Rome. You know I came back to find you .”
    She wanted desperately to believe it. If it was genuine he could find a way for her from the position she was in through no fault of her own. The tour was all right. But at the end of it? She had a vision of arriving back at Gatwick. Who would she find there to welcome her? Him — or —
    She shivered violently and one or two people at neighbouring tables looked at her curiously. Owen, who noticed everything, whose eyes had never stopped recording their whole surrounding scene, waved to the white-coated elderly waiter to ask for their bill.
    â€œShe’s still there,” he said, meaning Mrs. Lawler. “We’ll go to my hotel. But we’ll walk down to the Spanish Steps to throw her off the scent.”
    â€œHow?” asked Gwen sulkily. “She won’t follow us there, will she?”
    â€œI think not,” he answered in a grave, wholly natural voice. “It wouldn’t occur to her.”
    â€œWell, then?”
    But the bill had arrived and Owen was paying it and chatting affably with the waiter, so she got no answer, though she gave herself the satisfaction of locating Mrs. Lawler and waving to her. Owen Strong might be taking her to his hotel and she had no doubt of his intention in so doing. In fact she would have felt insulted if she proved to be wrong. But he wasn’t going to have the last word and he wasn’t going to screw any more of the past out of her.
    At Owen’s hotel he collected the key of his room while she sat with a drink in the lounge. They went quietly up together and she was not at all wrong about his intention. But very wrong about that last word.
    She lay watching him dress, pleasantly drowsy and very contented. She had enjoyed herself more than she had expected and far more than she had thought possible when she joined the coach at Genoa. Not a single one of the men on their plane who looked even capable had turned up on ‘Roseanna’. The thought of two whole dreary weeks with that lot …
    Owen looked round at her. Nicely relaxed, ready to give the facts he wanted. Just a little shake and she’d fall like a ripe plum — well, not exactly a plum, a bit shrivelled, even if ripe.
    He stopped drooling to himself and leaving his jacket hanging on a chair went over and sat on the side of the bed