as if he was summing her up preparatory to finally making up his mind about her.
“Yes, I am,” he said briefly.
Sarah extended her hand to him across the table. “Then my father and I are your new tenants. We’re going to live in your converted oast-house.”
He accepted her hand and she was pleased to note that his was both firm and dry. “I suppose I should have known when you said your father is Daniel Blaney, but somebody else made all the arrangements—his secretary, perhaps?”
“More likely my stepmother’s,” Sarah answered.
He looked at her sharply. “No, I think it was your stepmother herself—Madge Dryden. I suppose that’s why she isn’t coming herself?”
Sarah nodded. “She’s in the middle of a run.”
“The traditions of the theatre don’t make for an ideal family life,” he remarked casually. “But I suppose your father is in the theatre too and knew what he was taking on.”
“Don’t you like the theatre?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t any views either way. I think people in the theatre are apt to have a different set of values from the rest of us, that’s all.”
Sarah lifted her eyes to him. “But you ought to understand the importance of tradition, if anyone should !”
His eyebrows rose giving him an arrogant look. “Meaning?”
Sarah’s eyes fell. She muttered something about his pedigree and his Saxon forebears in an agony of embarrassment, only to discover that he was laughing at her. “You have been doing your homework !” he observed.
“N-not really,” she stammered. “You were at school with—with a friend of mine. He told me about you when I said we were going to live near Canterbury.”
“Really?”
“I don’t suppose you remember him,” Sarah hurried on. “He—he works m the theatre. Alec Farne.”
“Oh yes, I remember him,” Mr. Chaddox said grimly.
Sarah blushed. “He said you didn’t have much in common at school.”
“An understatement,” Mr. Chaddox grunted. He watched her closely as she ordered a steak from the overworked waitress and then ordered coffee for himself. Needless to say, his coffee came first, long before her steak, and she was still waiting while he stirred sugar into his cup with an abstracted air. “How ill is your father, Miss Blaney?” he asked her suddenly.
Sarah’s worries about her father returned to engulf her. She bit her lip, horribly aware of the stinging tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. I think he’s pretty bad, but only my stepmother has actually spoken to the doctor, and my father always makes light of everything.”
Mr. Chaddox looked severe. “What makes you think you’ll be able to nurse him by yourself?”
Sarah looked with frank envy at his coffee and longed for her own meal to appear. “I love him,” she said simply.
“That’s scarcely a recommendation as a nurse!” He summoned the waitress with a beckoning finger and pointed at the empty space in front of Sarah. The waitress nodded an apology and came flying over with the steak that Sarah had ordered. “If he’s really ill, I should have thought he’d have wanted his wife with him!”
“Madge Dryden?” Sarah said weakly.
“I suppose you’re accustomed to standing in the wings as your stepmother’s understudy?” he grunted.
“Up to a point,” Sarah admitted.
"What point?”
Sarah hesitated. She was strongly tempted to do as he had first suggested and tell him to mind his own business, but somehow she was as defenceless before him as if he had the right to know.
“Well, she’s the star in the family and that counts, but one day I shall be just as famous. Not musical comedy, of course, I haven’t much talent for that sort of thing, but as a legit actress. I had just landed my first West End part when this came up.”
Mr. Chaddox could barely keep the contempt out of his voice. “With Alec Farne, I suppose?”
Sarah nodded eagerly. “He was furious when I said I couldn’t take the part.”
“How
“Yes, I am,” he said briefly.
Sarah extended her hand to him across the table. “Then my father and I are your new tenants. We’re going to live in your converted oast-house.”
He accepted her hand and she was pleased to note that his was both firm and dry. “I suppose I should have known when you said your father is Daniel Blaney, but somebody else made all the arrangements—his secretary, perhaps?”
“More likely my stepmother’s,” Sarah answered.
He looked at her sharply. “No, I think it was your stepmother herself—Madge Dryden. I suppose that’s why she isn’t coming herself?”
Sarah nodded. “She’s in the middle of a run.”
“The traditions of the theatre don’t make for an ideal family life,” he remarked casually. “But I suppose your father is in the theatre too and knew what he was taking on.”
“Don’t you like the theatre?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t any views either way. I think people in the theatre are apt to have a different set of values from the rest of us, that’s all.”
Sarah lifted her eyes to him. “But you ought to understand the importance of tradition, if anyone should !”
His eyebrows rose giving him an arrogant look. “Meaning?”
Sarah’s eyes fell. She muttered something about his pedigree and his Saxon forebears in an agony of embarrassment, only to discover that he was laughing at her. “You have been doing your homework !” he observed.
“N-not really,” she stammered. “You were at school with—with a friend of mine. He told me about you when I said we were going to live near Canterbury.”
“Really?”
“I don’t suppose you remember him,” Sarah hurried on. “He—he works m the theatre. Alec Farne.”
“Oh yes, I remember him,” Mr. Chaddox said grimly.
Sarah blushed. “He said you didn’t have much in common at school.”
“An understatement,” Mr. Chaddox grunted. He watched her closely as she ordered a steak from the overworked waitress and then ordered coffee for himself. Needless to say, his coffee came first, long before her steak, and she was still waiting while he stirred sugar into his cup with an abstracted air. “How ill is your father, Miss Blaney?” he asked her suddenly.
Sarah’s worries about her father returned to engulf her. She bit her lip, horribly aware of the stinging tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. I think he’s pretty bad, but only my stepmother has actually spoken to the doctor, and my father always makes light of everything.”
Mr. Chaddox looked severe. “What makes you think you’ll be able to nurse him by yourself?”
Sarah looked with frank envy at his coffee and longed for her own meal to appear. “I love him,” she said simply.
“That’s scarcely a recommendation as a nurse!” He summoned the waitress with a beckoning finger and pointed at the empty space in front of Sarah. The waitress nodded an apology and came flying over with the steak that Sarah had ordered. “If he’s really ill, I should have thought he’d have wanted his wife with him!”
“Madge Dryden?” Sarah said weakly.
“I suppose you’re accustomed to standing in the wings as your stepmother’s understudy?” he grunted.
“Up to a point,” Sarah admitted.
"What point?”
Sarah hesitated. She was strongly tempted to do as he had first suggested and tell him to mind his own business, but somehow she was as defenceless before him as if he had the right to know.
“Well, she’s the star in the family and that counts, but one day I shall be just as famous. Not musical comedy, of course, I haven’t much talent for that sort of thing, but as a legit actress. I had just landed my first West End part when this came up.”
Mr. Chaddox could barely keep the contempt out of his voice. “With Alec Farne, I suppose?”
Sarah nodded eagerly. “He was furious when I said I couldn’t take the part.”
“How
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