Pursuit of a Parcel Read Free Page B

the guardian sleeps sound. This isn’t the sort of thing he’d approve of, you know.”
    She stood clear whilst he scrambled in, and then latched the window and drew the curtains close before she said, “He’s in London—sleeping in a cellar, poor dear. I hope he does sleep sound. He doesn’t often get down except at week-ends now.”
    She went by him in the dark. His hand just touched her dress—something soft like velvet. A switch clicked and light came on from a clouded bowl in the ceiling.
    Yes, it was velvet—a deep-blue velvet house-coat, right down to her feet, long and straight and plain. It made her look incredibly tall and slim. Above the deep colour her fair hair shone like gold.
    She ran over to switch the fire on, and turning, caught at his hands. “You’re frozen! Let’s go and make coffee in the kitchen.”
    Antony shook his head.
    â€œI haven’t got time. I’m due—somewhere else—in a brace of shakes. I oughtn’t to be here, but I had to come.”
    That cold something touched Delia again. She said, “What is it, Antony? Is anything the matter?” The words came tumbling, catching a little with the caught breath.
    She stood there, holding him, nearly as tall as he—nineteen, and only just out of the stage of being all arms and legs. Just when she had stopped being the half awkward, half graceful creature whom he had teased, bullied, and protected, Antony hardly knew. She had been like a young colt, and then, somewhere or other in the last eighteen months, the awkwardness had fallen away, leaving a kind of untamed grace instead. She had grey eyes, widely opened and widely, deeply set, the lids arched to show a black-ringed iris. They were fixed now upon his face with a mournful, agonizing question.
    â€œSomething’s happened. Tell me!”
    He shook his head.
    â€œNo, it hasn’t. Delia, don’t look like that! I—”
    She let go of his hands and reached up to clasp his neck. All the things which he had meant not to say came boiling to his lips.
    â€œDelia—I love you! I couldn’t go without seeing you.”
    She put up her lips. St. Anthony himself would have fallen. Antony was no saint. Delia’s hands pulled him down. He kissed her. They stood pressed close together, whispering, kissing, whispering again, whilst time flowed past and left them unaware.
    The clock struck four, and brought them back. Antony lifted his head, put her a little away, and looked at her transfigured face.
    â€œI didn’t mean to do this. I only meant to see you—and I’d no business to do that.”
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œI can’t tell you.”
    â€œIs it for long?”
    â€œI can’t tell you that either.”
    A shadow touched her eyes.
    â€œYou mean perhaps you won’t come back?”
    Had he meant that? He didn’t know—it was in his mind.
    He said, “No, of course not,” and saw that she didn’t believe him. They had been together too much, known each other too well. Lies wouldn’t pass—not with either of them. He said in another voice, “It’s a job, darling. Don’t worry—I’ll come back. Look here, I’ll tell you why I’ve come.”
    â€œYou said—to see me.”
    â€œYes. You can help me.”
    â€œHow?”
    She saw a familiar sparkle in his eyes.
    â€œCan you act a bit?”
    â€œOf course! What do you want me to do?”
    He laughed, and rubbed his cheek against hers.
    â€œPretend we’ve quarrelled.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause. Will you do it?”
    â€œI shall hate it.”
    He laughed again. “No, you won’t. Women love telling lies in a good cause.”
    â€œThey don’t!”
    â€œMy child, they do—it’s engrained in them—they get no end of a kick out of it. You will, you know—everybody thinking we’ve had a