The Blue Rose Read Online Free PDF

conventions. Please don’t let’s waste any more. Will you have dinner with me to-morrow?”
    “Yes,” she found herself answering simply.
    “Where?”
    “Anywhere you like. I don’t know many places in London.”
    “I daren’t ask you here. Convention again. If I asked you to dine alone with me here people would warn you against me, and I’m certainly not going to waste any more time by asking anyone else, so it will have to be somewhere out. Let’s say the Mirabelle, shall we? That’s in Curzon Street. At eight o’clock.”
    “Do I have to put on evening dress there?”
    “No, wear what you wore the other evening—or what you’ve got on now. Or anything you like. It’s you I want to see again ... Is that a date? Promise you’ll turn up?”
    “I promise,” she said quietly.
    “And now I suppose I’ve got to go and look after my guests. It’s all your fault. What a waste of an evening. I’ ll try and take you home but I don’t suppose I shall be allowed to ... While you’re here you might as well meet one of the nicest people in the room—a very old friend of mine—Robin Johnson. He’s a barrister.”
    He took her up and introduced her to a tall, fair man of about his own age or a little older, and left her with him. He had been talking to another girl with great earnestness and Rose couldn’t help feeling that she was an intruder, for now they were obliged out of politeness to talk to her. The girl’s name was Gai Spalding and she was tall and dark and very pretty.
    Sandwiches were brought in at about eleven o’clock, and soon afterwards, when it became apparent that there was to be no more music, the party began to break up.
    Clare came in search of Rose. “Clive wants to go home,” she said, and Rose thought she detected a slight tinge of annoyance in her tone, “so we’ll drop you.”
    Rose said good-night to Robin Johnson and the girl, and followed Clare across the room to where Stephen was standing talking to some friends. “We’re off now,” Clare said. “It’s been a lovely evening. I’ll ring you up in the morning.”
    “I’m sure Miss Woodhouse doesn’t want to go yet,” Stephen said quickly. “If she would like to stay I will take her home.”
    “No, she’ll come with us,” Clare said quite definitely. “I’ve promised her cousin to see her home.”
    There was nothing Rose could do but submit with a good grace. She held out her hand. “Thank you so much,” she said, “for such a lovely party.” She wished he would then say: “I shall see you to-morrow,” but he said nothing beyond: “Good-night, I am so glad you were able to come.” She didn’t want to deceive Clare but surely it was for him to make their plans known rather than for her. Evidently, however, he wanted to keep their meeting a secret, and she found it rather difficult now—no, she found it impossible—to say anything to Clare about it.
    Clive was driving the car home and Clare sat in front beside him, but she turned to talk to Rose in the back. “I hope you enjoyed yourself,” she said. “It’s a lovely little house, isn’t it? But, my dear, at the risk of your thinking me impertinent I must just say one word of warning to you. Don’t take Stephen too seriously. Keep your head. He’s sure to want to see you again and there’s no earthly harm in it as long as you don’t take him seriously. Don’t you agree, Clive?”
    “Yes, my love, I most certainly do.”
    “I know him very well,” Clare went on, “so I hope you won’t resent my saying this; but I’m sure there’s a wise little head on those pretty shoulders of yours.”
    Somehow it was Clive’s agreement even more than Clare’s warning which sent a chill through Rose. And hadn’t Francie said just the same thing? And why had he wanted to keep their meeting secret? Yes, she must at all costs keep her head and be on her guard. But to-morrow evening she would have to go and meet him because she had promised.

 
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