The Blind Side Read Online Free PDF

interest and listened in a faraway manner to the red-haired girl’s description of the Tower of London. Her name was Maud Passinger, and she described everything in detail and with immense enthusiasm.
    Some time during the next dance he found himself close to Mavis in a jam. She said in her pretty, empty voice,
    â€œOh, Peter, I never see you.”
    To which he replied,
    â€œWell, here I am. Take a good long, satisfying look. It costs you nothing.”
    Mavis’s dark eyes opened wide. Her lips parted in a small puzzled smile.
    â€œWell, you know what I mean.”
    â€œNot in the least, darling.”
    â€œOh, Peter!”
    Paula Nelson was talking heartily to the next couple in the jam.
    â€œWhere’s Ross?” said Peter.
    â€œHe saw a man he wanted to speak to. Peter, aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”
    â€œNo, my child.”
    â€œOh, Peter—why?”
    â€œRoss appears to have staked out a claim. I am too young to die.”
    She laughed her tripping laugh at that, and said,
    â€œSilly!” Then, in a patronizing voice, “Are you afraid Ross would hurt you?”
    â€œPerhaps I’m afraid I might hurt Ross.”
    And with that Paula was saying,
    â€œAren’t we going to dance any more? Do you know who that was that I was talking to? Well, it was a girl I was at school with, and she was so fat we used to call her ‘Twice round the Gasworks.’ And now look at her. She swears she’s only thirty-four round the hips. And that’s her husband, and they’re over from Kenya, but they’ll have to go back again. I do wonder how she’s done it. You know, I’d like to be thin, but I just can’t be bothered about a diet, and one person tells you nothing but boiled milk, and another says oranges and tomatoes—and I can’t bear tomatoes—can you? But perhaps you like them. Such a lot of people seem to, but personally I think they’re horrid.”
    Paula’s talk went on and on and on. She had nursed him through a baddish bout of fever, and he felt properly grateful. Beneath the paralyzing dullness of the present moment ran a steady current of affection. He bore up until the party dispersed, and then thankfully retrieved his hat.
    A last look back into the room showed him that Mavis and Ross were still together. They were not dancing now, but sitting out under an electric fan. The light just overhead shone through a many-coloured prism upon Mavis’s silver dress and the champagne in her glass. Marvellous heads girls had nowadays, but it looked to him as if she had had just about enough. Perhaps a little more. Anyhow it was none of his business.
    On the steps he collided with a large young man who said “Sorry,” and then clutched him.
    â€œPeter!”
    He surveyed Bobby Foster without enthusiasm. The clutch became a bruising grip.
    â€œPeter! Is she still in there?”
    Peter’s diagnosis was that Bobby had had quite as much to drink as he could carry, and that he was spoiling for a scene. He slipped a hand inside his arm and began to walk away.
    â€œWho is in where?” he enquired soothingly.
    Bobby stopped dead and struck an attitude.
    â€œDo you know that she was coming out with me, and when I went to fetch her she’d gone with that—that—”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Peter, most untruthfully.
    A hand like a ham came down upon his shoulder. Most of Bobby Foster’s weight appeared to be resting upon it. He swayed on a pair of unsteady legs and said in a broken voice,
    â€œMavis—he’s stolen her—cut in on me and stolen her—I can’t give her champagne—like Craddock—”
    Peter frowned. He remembered the dazzle of lights on Mavis’s glass. What a dratted nuisance girls were. Bobby was a good fellow if a bit of an ass. He couldn’t possibly be allowed to go barging into the Ducks