Walk with Care Read Online Free PDF Page B

smiled, and in a flash she was beautiful. She leaned forward.
    â€œHave I been very, very dull?”
    Jeremy smiled too.
    â€œWhat do I say to that?”
    â€œThe truth, my dear.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t like the truth.”
    â€œYes, I should.”
    â€œAll right—” He paused. “Sure?”
    â€œIs it so dreadful?”
    â€œYou asked for it.”
    â€œWell?”
    â€œI was thinking how awfully good of you it was to come, and hoping you didn’t mind.”
    He saw her eyes fill with tears and wished that he had held his tongue, but only for a moment. Almost at once she said in a warm, pleased voice,
    â€œHow dear of you!”
    â€œThen you don’t mind?”
    â€œWhat you said? It was lovely. You know I was afraid of coming here. I thought I should find it—I thought it might be—” She paused, and then came out with “unendurable. You know it’s the first time I’ve been anywhere.”
    Jeremy did not speak. As a rule he had a flow of words, but something dammed it now.
    â€œI want you to know I’m glad I came,” said Rosalind. “It’s rather like a dream here—the people, and the lights, and the music, and you, and me. It’s so like a dream that I feel as if Gilbert might come into it at any moment. It feels as if it was his dream too, and that is why I’m so glad I came.”
    Jeremy’s frown deepened. He felt embarrassment, and a curious surging anger. Why should this thing have come to Rosalind Denny? He remembered her as she had been, and saw her as she was now. She was only thirty-two, and the colour was gone, and the bloom. Her eyes had a haunted look. That she should take comfort from a dream moved him indescribably. He could not find anything to say.
    Rosalind said, “Thank you, Jeremy,” and he started and said,
    â€œWhy?”
    Her smile came out again.
    â€œDid you think I didn’t know what you were thinking? Jeremy—will you promise me something?”
    Jeremy said, “Yes.”
    â€œWithout knowing what it is? You shouldn’t do that.”
    â€œI wouldn’t with anyone else.”
    Rosalind’s eyes smiled this time, very beautifully.
    â€œDear Jeremy! Do you trust me as much as all that?”
    Jeremy said “Yes” again.
    â€œIt’s something quite easy. It’s only I want you to talk to me about Gilbert—to let me talk about him. You know, people do at first, and then they stop. Gilbert’s old aunt that I’ve been living with was like that—she didn’t like my speaking about him after a bit. She used to drop her voice and call him ‘poor Gilbert.’ I can’t bear that. I want you always, always to talk about him as if he was in the next room. Will you?”
    â€œHe was the best friend I’ve ever had,” said Jeremy. “I can’t believe he’s gone even now.” He spoke with an effort. He thought his words sounded hard and bare.
    But Rosalind was satisfied.
    â€œI’m so glad I came,” she said. “Now tell me about you. How are you getting on with Bernard Mannister?”
    â€œWe bear and forbear,” said Jeremy with a sombre gleam in his eye.
    â€œWhich does which?”
    â€œI bear, and he forbears—with an air of massive gloom.”
    â€œOh, Jeremy, doesn’t he like you?”
    â€œNot to any marked extent.”
    â€œOh, but why? Gilbert was terribly fond of you.”
    â€œMannister isn’t,” said Jeremy. “He’d like me better if I’d play up to him a bit. You know the sort of thing—buckets of butter, and how marvellous his last speech was, and a lot of gas about ideals. Deane’s a marvel at it—he’s the other secretary. You should just see the old boy lapping it up and exuding high-mindedness and public spirit. He likes Deane all right. I’m a disappointment with a capital D. He told me so this