The Black Cabinet Read Online Free PDF

in Mrs. Jones’ sitting-room, lent for the occasion, was a cheerful and friendly one. As they walked to the cinema, Chloe asked:
    â€œWere you long in Africa?”
    â€œTwo years. I didn’t like it, and my mother simply hated my being out there. I didn’t get demobbed till two years after the Armistice—I was in Palestine and Egypt. And then I was crocked for a bit. And then I went to Africa orange farming. I hated it like poison.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t know—I did. I like people. I loathed the veldt, and Kaffirs, and waiting for orange pips to grow into forest trees. And when a great-uncle I’d never seen left me his little all, I threw my hat in the air and came home—”
    â€œAnd spent it?” There was horror in Chloe’s tone; she looked at him severely. “How couldyou?”
    â€œI didn’t—not much. I bought my car, and ran round having a good time for a bit. Then I made up my mind to go into the motor business. I like cars better than anything, really; and I’ve got one or two ideas of my own that I want to work out. But of course you can be most awfully had, so I thought I’d get to know the ropes a bit before I parted with any of Uncle Horace’s money. I shall probably go into the firm I’m driving for.” He laughed. “It’s quite good fun, and I’ve learnt a thing or two.”
    â€œIt must be lovely driving people like Mrs. Howard,” said Chloe.
    â€œThey’re not all like that. After all, you meet people you can’t stand almost anywhere. There’s a man here now that I simply bar; I’m always running across him.” He broke off, and Chloe said: “You’ll be glad to leave Maxton.”
    â€œI don’t know.” His tone was strictly noncommital. “I shall probably butt into him in town.” He frowned, and then laughed. “I can’t think why I began to talk about him. It’s a frightful mistake to talk about people you bar.”
    Two hours later they walked home together.
    Edward Anderson and Rose had dropped behind. Michael did not say a single word until they turned into the quiet street where Rose and Chloe lodged. Then he burst into speech:
    â€œDo you believe in telling the truth?”
    â€œI always tell the truth,” said Chloe. She laughed because Michael was so solemn. “I was very nicely brought up—by Miss Tankerville. She’d be simply horrified at your asking such a thing.”
    Michael went on being serious.
    â€œI don’t mean telling lies or—or untruths in the ordinary sense. I mean, this is such a beastly conventional world, and we’re all brought up to behave in a conventional way; one can’t really speak the truth bang out; but sometimes one would like to frightfully. That’s what I meant.”
    â€œThere’s a game where you have to speak the truth,” said Chloe. “Last time I played it, one girl left the room in tears, and a man I used to know rather well has never forgiven me, and probably never will. It doesn’t always answer.” She paused. Discretion bade her pause, but curiosity urged her on. She turned innocent eyes on Michael, and added, “Of course it depends on what you want to say.”
    Michael said nothing. He also was wrestling with discretion.
    They reached the street lamp by Mrs. Jones’ door, and stood there. Rose and Edward were not in sight.
    â€œYou see,” said Michael, suddenly finding words, “I’ve only seen you twice, and it sounds such awful cheek if I say what I should like to say.” He became furiously red and plunged on. “If we weren’t all so frightfully conventional, I should say I like you better than any girl I’ve ever met, and I’d like most awfully to be friends, and see you again; only of course you’d think it most frightful cheek if I did.”
    Chloe’s laugh shook a