I and My True Love Read Online Free PDF

enthusiasm. Nor did Martin Clark seem overcome by the charms of Mr. Hallis. It was natural somehow, for Clark and Turner to drift away together as if by mutual consent, leaving Hallis to entertain the ladies. This he did by finding a comfortable chair, slightly removed, and then devoting himself entirely to Kate.
    Miriam Hugenberg, a very merry widow, arrived scarcely half an hour late in a flurry of excuses and explanations. Again, the only introductions necessary were to Kate and Bob Turner; and from across the room, Kate received a nod and a smile from the lieutenant as if he felt the two strangers had better stick together. Mrs. Hugenberg, her figure well-dieted and adorned in pink, her thin neck heavily encircled by a rope of sapphires and diamonds, quickly took charge of the drawingroom. Her hyacinth-blue curls nodded approvingly at the Army, her quick brown eyes didn’t object to the visitor from California who remained decorative and silent as young girls should be; and talking gaily about Paris to the room in general and Stewart Hallis in particular, she was finally persuaded after two cocktails into the dining-room. The men heaved a sigh of relief. Even Stewart Hallis had been despondent, Kate noted. She had learned one thing at least: it was quite useless to be witty before dinner if your audience was hungry.
    It could have been a difficult party. There had been the usual tendency for the old Washington hands to start talking about the names they knew, quite forgetting that neither Kate nor Turner could possibly be interested in “young Svenson” or “whatever happened to Betty Meyer?” or “Jimmy Dalziel’s divine house.” But Sylvia, manoeuvring as skilfully as a Hudson River pilot, avoided that grim shipwreck of dinner parties and edged her guests towards topics so general that everyone knew them. In addition, the food was excellent, the wine good, the candlelight flattering, the table (with its roses and silver on gleaming mahogany) pleasing.
    Everyone relaxed a little, the initial tensions were eased. Stewart Hallis seemed to have decided that he’d rather raise one of his well-marked eyebrows in Kate’s direction than listen to Miriam Hugenberg on Jimmy Dalziel’s house. (Besides, he preferred his own house.) Miriam, fortunately, had decided that the silent young lieutenant on her left needed some help in understanding the Washington scene, and she was delighted to give it. (It was the least we could do for our boys, she thought in a sudden surge of patriotism. So young, nowadays, with all these medals and wounds and things—really, it was amazing.)
    “So you’ve reversed the process,” Stewart Hallis said, admiring Kate’s shoulders. “You’ve come east, young woman. And what next?”
    “I’ve a job in Washington.” This is a strange type, Kate thought: I’m never sure whether I should be angry or laugh with him.
    “You actually came here with a job all waiting and ready? Original. And what agency are you going to be in?” The curve of her throat was excellent, her chin firm and smooth.
    “Oh, I’m not in any work connected with the government.”
    “Amazing.” And he was amazed. Nice breasts, he noted, and a slender waist. Natural, too. He glanced at Miriam.
    “I’m going to work in the Berg Foundation,” Kate said. Martin Clark was interested. “That’s the new Contemporary Art Collection?”
    “Yes. Do you know it?”
    “I haven’t been inside, yet. To tell you the truth, I’ve never been feeling quite strong enough when I’ve passed by.”
    “And to tell you more truth,” Hallis said with a touch of annoyance that Kate’s attention had been diverted, “Clark isn’t very contemporary-minded.”
    “Don’t you approve?” Kate asked Martin Clark.
    “Not altogether,” he admitted with a smile against himself. “When I’m in a room with mobiles I always feel as if I were dodging a flock of bats.”
    “The Berg has some French impressionists, too,” Kate said