Theodora’s loving, teasing inscription. These acts were of course unforgettable, and before they could laugh over them together time would have to go by; Theodora had written that night, accepting Dr. Montague’s invitation, and departed in cold silence the next day.
Luke Sanderson was a liar. He was also a thief. His aunt, who was the owner of Hill House, was fond of pointing out that her nephew had the best education, the best clothes, the best taste, and the worst companions of anyone she had ever known; she would have leaped at any chance to put him safely away for a few weeks. The family lawyer was prevailed upon to persuade Dr. Montague that the house could on no account be rented to him for his purposes without the confining presence of a member of the family during his stay, and perhaps at their first meeting the doctor perceived in Luke a kind of strength, or catlike instinct for self-preservation, which made him almost as anxious as Mrs. Sanderson to have Luke with him in the house. At any rate, Luke was amused, his aunt grateful, and Dr. Montague more than satisfied. Mrs. Sanderson told the family lawyer that at any rate there was really nothing in the house Luke could steal. The old silver there was of some value, she told the lawyer, but it represented an almost insuperable difficulty for Luke: it required energy to steal it and transform it into money. Mrs. Sanderson did Luke an injustice. Luke was not at all likely to make off with the family silver, or Dr. Montague’s watch, or Theodora’s bracelet; his dishonesty was largely confined to taking petty cash from his aunt’s pocketbook and cheating at cards. He was also apt to sell the watches and cigarette cases given him, fondly and with pretty blushes, by his aunt’s friends. Someday Luke would inherit Hill House, but he had never thought to find himself living in it.
3
“I just don’t think she should take the car, is all,” Eleanor’s brother-in-law said stubbornly.
“It’s half my car,” Eleanor said. “I helped pay for it.”
“I just don’t think she should take it, is all,” her brother-in-law said. He appealed to his wife. “It isn’t fair she should have the use of it for the whole summer, and us have to do without.”
“Carrie drives it all the time, and I never even take it out of the garage,” Eleanor said. “Besides, you’ll be in the mountains all summer, and you can’t use it there . Carrie, you know you won’t use the car in the mountains.”
“But suppose poor little Linnie got sick or something? And we needed a car to get her to a doctor?”
“It’s half my car,” Eleanor said. “I mean to take it.”
“Suppose even Carrie got sick? Suppose we couldn’t get a doctor and needed to go to a hospital?”
“I want it. I mean to take it.”
“I don’t think so.” Carrie spoke slowly, deliberately. “We don’t know where you’re going, do we? You haven’t seen fit to tell us very much about all this, have you? I don’t think I can see my way clear to letting you borrow my car.”
“It’s half my car.”
“No,” Carrie said. “You may not.”
“Right.” Eleanor’s brother-in-law nodded. “We need it, like Carrie says.”
Carrie smiled slightly. “I’d never forgive myself, Eleanor, if I lent you the car and something happened. How do we know we can trust this doctor fellow? You’re still a young woman, after all, and the car is worth a good deal of money.”
“Well, now, Carrie, I did call Homer in the credit office, and he said this fellow was in good standing at some college or other—”
Carrie said, still smiling, “Of course, there is every reason to suppose that he is a decent man. But Eleanor does not choose to tell us where she is going, or how to reach her if we want the car back; something could happen, and we might never know. Even if Eleanor,” she went on delicately, addressing her teacup, “even if Eleanor is prepared to run off to the ends of the earth at the
Richard Ellis Preston Jr.