Something Light Read Online Free PDF Page B

turned to him gratefully.—She turned; and Louisa saw her profile.
    No tropic heat, so ravaging of skin and hair, affects the profile. Enid Anstruther’s had remained exquisite: low, straight forehead, straight, delicately cut nose, short upper lip and delicately rounded chin. It was a profile out of a Victorian keepsake—Grecian softened to prettiness. It was a profile, there was no denying, for a man to remember with devotion even after eighteen years.
    Lying down being apparently the order of the day, as soon as Mrs. Anstruther had been shown her room, Louisa went and lay down too.
    2
    The bedspread, which she carefully turned back, was of pink brocade. Upon the floor a deep pile carpet, slightly darker in tone than the quilt, fitted from wall to wall. Curtains patterned with enormous pale green leaves framed a view of pine trees and sea. It wasn’t even the best bedroom—that had Mrs. Anstruther lying down in it—but it was still so very different indeed from Louisa’s room in Paddington, when she woke in it that morning she felt like the chimney sweep in Buck House.
    Freddy had driven her from London the day before. (In his custom-built Rolls: his own luggage stowed in matching suitcases, Louisa’s in a variety of air-line giveaway bags. Actually Freddy didn’t drive himself, there was a custom-built chauffeur.) Louisa enjoyed the trip thoroughly, even though Freddy grew progressively more taciturn. (“And why the hell not?” thought Louisa sympathetically. What a lapful awaited him!) She sympathized—but not so acutely that she forgot to loll. Novel though the experience was, in Freddy’s Rolls Louisa discovered that she could loll as to the manner born. Halting for coffee, halfway through the morning’s run, she didn’t even descend, but let a cup be obsequiously carried out to her. Halting for lunch, at a famous and fabulously expensive inn, she just accepted the necessity of putting foot to ground. Then they had everything most expensive on the menu.
    â€œI could, don’t you think, make a woman comfortable?” suggested F. Pennon.
    â€œUnless she’s off her head,” said Louisa warmly.
    They reached Bournemouth about six: the big house above a famous chine awaited them in apple-pie order. “Evening, Karen,” said Freddy casually. “Got any cocktails for us?” A large and smiling Swede indicated the tray. (“What she must be paid—!” thought Louisa.) Some sort of understrapper of the chauffeur’s carried in their bags, and a dinner to recruit Arctic explorers was served at eight. Freddy was still taciturn, and what slight conversation took place concerned the desirability, or otherwise, of Louisa’s accompanying him to meet Mrs. Anstruther’s train.
    â€œJust to break the ice!” pleaded Freddy.
    â€œNot I,” said Louisa. “You’ve got to take the plunge.”
    â€œI tell you, I’ve told you, it’s exactly just at first I’ll want you there.”
    â€œYes, but not just at first as all that,” said Louisa. “Not on the platform …”
    As has been seen, she won her point, and Freddy went to the station alone.
    3
    Louisa pummeled the pillow into a sausage under her nape. It was an uncommonly warm afternoon, but she couldn’t sleep. To sleep at such an hour was unnatural to her; naturally, or customarily, she’d have been developing film in Rossy’s basement.—Louisa put the thought of Mr. Ross aside; as she saw now, she’d been over-impulsive in her confidences to him. She had also been over-impulsive in her confidences to Hugo, and was only thankful she hadn’t said anything to Number Ten.
    â€œAll the same,” thought Louisa uneasily, “I’m going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do when I get back …”
    She pummeled the pillow again. Its linen slip was pale pink, so were the sheets, and blankets.