I and My True Love Read Free Page B

Hallis,” Sylvia went on.
    He liked Hallis, a successful lawyer in the international field, and a very eligible bachelor. “That’s tactful,” he conceded.
    “Lieutenant Turner—the one who knew Kate’s brother in Korea.”
    “That’s a stroke of genius.” Perhaps Turner would stop admiring Sylvia from a distance and concentrate on someone nearer his own age.
    Sylvia was saying dutifully, listlessly, “And Miriam Hugenberg.”
    “Well,” he said encouragingly, “that doesn’t sound too difficult an evening.” There was no one whose feelings would be hurt if he arrived late. “Practically a family gathering. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
    He put down the ’phone, glanced impatiently at the clock on his desk, and said, “Now, are these the latest figures available? What about that subsidiary February report?”
    “You thought it wasn’t reliable,” Miss Black said.
    “Let me see its analysis again.”
    He studied it carefully. Nothing really definite there... “What we want are facts and figures, not opinions,” he said irritably, yet pleased that his judgment had been right in the first place.
    Miss Black’s sharp eyes expressed her agreement and approval. She began, quickly, methodically, to gather together the exact papers he required. “I’ll stay here until the meeting’s over,” she said.
    He nodded, still frowning slightly. He passed a well-kept hand over his thinning grey hair. His face looked white and tired but his worry, once the frown left his brow, was well hidden. When he rose, he stooped a little as if to apologise for his height. His clothes were as quiet and restrained as his manners. His movements like his words were economical. But at the door he paused to give Miss Black a smile of thanks, a small smile that lightened his severe gaunt face for a brief moment. Then the door was shut quickly, firmly, decisively.
    He works too hard, Miss Black thought. But who doesn’t? She looked at the opened files which lay in disorder and for which she felt wholly responsible. She made a pretence of a sigh, but it wouldn’t have deceived anyone.
    * * *
    The ’phone call from Payton had come just as she had reached her room. Sylvia put down the receiver, trying to calm her resentments. That silly listing of the names of the guests—as if to prove he were interested in the little dinner party for Kate, as if he hadn’t been told yesterday about the guests who were coming. Perhaps he hadn’t been listening, though. He listened to very little nowadays, except to his friends who were all men, who were all interested in the problems that interested him. Or that silly way of calling her dutiful because she had gone to meet Kate. Why hadn’t he asked about the luncheon and the speeches? That had been pure duty, commanded by him. It was good for Payton to have a wife who could appear on a platform for the right occasions, earn him some credit, and save him so much boredom.
    Then she broke off her small revolt as quickly as it had begun. She had tried a real revolt once—six years ago. It might have succeeded if only—oh, why even think of it now?
    She dropped her hat and furs on a chair, and sat down on the edge of the chaise longue. At first, she sat tensely, seeing nothing, her mind a blank, her emotions deadlocked. Then she lay back, staring up at the ceiling as if to find the answers to her problems there. “Jan,” she said softly, “oh Jan, why did you come back?” She began to cry, quietly and steadily.
    * * *
    The room had darkened. It must be getting late. She sat up, and switched on the lamp which stood at her elbow. Its small shaded glow fell on the silver and velvet frames clustered together on the small table beside her. Formal photographs, favourite snapshots enlarged, the little gallery of people who hedged her life and kept it in its own neat garden.
    There was her father, Thomas Jerold, sitting on the wide porch of Whitecraigs, looking proudly out over his Virginia