Blue Murder

Blue Murder Read Free Page B

Book: Blue Murder Read Free
Author: Harriet Rutland
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miscarriages, you see. But I won’t go into details.” (Thank God for that, thought Smith). “I have to take care of myself. My doctor insists that I should take very great care indeed. But how can I do that in these days, and in this house? I usually go abroad for the winter: I can’t stand this climate, but what can I do? I don’t want to go to a place where I shall be bombed, yet I feel I shall die if I stay here. Indeed, Mr. Smith, this war is very hard on us invalids.”
    She became quite animated. She so rarely found a new audience to listen to the recital of her troubles, or, having found one, was even more rarely allowed to monopolise its attention.
    A tinge of colour came into her pale cheeks, and Smith, looking at her squarely for the first time, thought how pretty she must have looked in the befrilled skirts and bodices of the early Georgian days of his own youth.
    Her hair, though nearly white, still curled about her head. Her eyebrows were delicately traced by Nature, her features small. But pale pouches, criss-crossed with fine lines, curved in baggy half-moons beneath her pale blue eyes, and there were deep lines from her nose to the corners of her down-turned mouth.
    She was, reflected Smith, either a very ill, or a very ill-tempered woman.
    He sat on the extreme edge of a low chair, cup balanced in hand, and plate on knee, scarcely knowing how to broach the purpose of his visit, when the sound of doors banging, of dogs barking, and of a loud, cheerful voice raised in greeting, came from the hall.
    Mrs. Hardstaffe’s face resumed its habitual aggrieved expression.
    â€œOh dear! That’s Leda—my daughter, you know, though I never can think why we ever chose such a name for her, for I’m sure she isn’t in the least swan-like, more’s the pity. I think you’d better put your cup and plate on the table,” she added, inconsequently, “I hope you like dogs.”
    Before Smith had time to assimilate the significance of these remarks, the door opened, and Leda Hardstaffe walked into the room, surrounded by a pack of delighted, yelping Sealyhams, whose squirming jumps left fine streaks of white hairs on the hem of her navy-blue uniform. Then, perceiving a stranger, they hurled themselves at Smith, knocking both cup and plate on to the carpet.
    The bitches indulged in snarling matches for the cake Smith had been eating, while the dogs shared the spilled tea, licking cup, saucer, spoon, and carpet, with equal care. When the last crumb of cake and drop of tea had been consumed, the dogs dispersed to their several favourite chair-legs in order to dispose of other liquid previously imbibed.
    Mrs. Hardstaffe threw her knitting at the nearest dog. “Leda! I will not have the dogs in here. It’s positively disgusting—and with a visitor here, too. You must forgive us,” she said, turning to Smith. “These are kennel dogs. Leda breeds them, and I have had the most beautiful kennels built for them outside, but she ** keep bringing them into the house.”
    â€œI’ve got to house-train them, Mother, if I’m to sell them,” said Leda. “They only do this kind of thing when I’ve been out, and I’ve told you before that it’s because you will shut them up as soon as my back’s turned. If you’d only leave them alone, they’d be all right.”
    â€œWell, I don’t like dogs in the house,” replied Mrs. Hardstaffe. “I’ve never been used to it. Just look at them!” She pointed to the Sealyhams who now, with panting tongues, and paws draped over the edge of every available chair, were engaged in completing various stages of their toilet. “They’ll ruin the covers, and these were expensive ones.” She turned again to Smith. “Do you like dogs all over a room, like this?”
    â€œI’m very fond of dogs,” Smith replied, fondling the ears of a young puppy which

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