The Romantic Adventures of Mr. Darby and of Sarah His Wife

The Romantic Adventures of Mr. Darby and of Sarah His Wife Read Free Page B

Book: The Romantic Adventures of Mr. Darby and of Sarah His Wife Read Free
Author: Martin Armstrong
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know. A very nice … ah … sound wine!’ he added tolerantly.
    He lifted an eye from one of the bottles to Sarah and noticed for the first time that she was dressed in a brand-new coffee-coloured silk dress. ‘My!’ he said, ‘you’ve got a new dress.’ He moved, still holding his champagne-bottles, to another point of view. ‘Well, I call that handsome, very handsome, I must say.’
    Sarah smiled. ‘O well, I’ve got to have a new dress
sometimes?
she said.
    Mr. Darby moved to yet another position. ‘Yes, very handsome!’ he said again. ‘Turn round and let’s see the back.
    â€˜Oh get along with you,’ said Sarah, indulgent but strict. ‘What do you know about dresses? Here, give me those bottles and off you go and get changed. The whole four of them’ll be here before you’re ready, and that’ud be a nice thing.’ She took the bottles from him and packed him off. ‘You’ll find all your things laid out on the bed,’ she shouted after him as he went out obediently. ‘And mind put on your black tie and not that fancy grey and blue thing.’
    â€˜She’s a strange one,’ said Mr. Darby to himself as he climbed the stairs. ‘Now if I’d asked her to get a new dress, would she have got one? Not she.’ And in his mind’s ear he heard her voice: ‘New dress? What do I want with a new dress? I’m good enough as I am, thank you.’ And yet, you could always rely on Sarah to rise to the occasion. She had got that dress, without a doubt, on purpose for the party, though she would have died rather than admit it. And very handsome it was; all, absolutely all, he could have wished. Yes, she laughed at him and his ideas, but leave her to herself and she always rose to the occasion.
    He closed the bedroom door and began to take off his coat and waistcoat.
    â€¢Â Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â Â â€¢
    The Stedmans were, of course, the first to arrive. Mr. Darby answered their knock. George Stedman with his great height and width filled the passage as he entered, preceded by his thin, gaunt wife who might almost have got in through the slit of the letterbox.
    â€˜Well, Jim,’ shouted George Stedman, ‘I wish you a very happy return. Not many happy returns, mind you, but one happy return. That’ll bring you to a hundred, and that’ll be about as much as is good for you.’
    â€˜And I wish you
many
happy returns, Mr. Darby,’ said Mrs. Stedman in her precise, mild, shadowy voice, offering him a thin hand, ‘for I don’t see why you shouldn’t live to as many fifties as you like.’
    Both removed their coats and Stedman his hat and Mr. Darby ushered them into the parlour, where Sarah awaited them.
    â€˜Well Mrs. D.,’ said Stedman, reaching out a huge paw, ‘I hope you’re standing the responsibility pretty well.’
    Sarah raised her eyebrows and gave him her enchanting grim smile. She had a weakness for George Stedman, perhaps because in figure and character he was a match for her and treated her with a breezy, familiar cordiality. ‘And which responsibility is that, Mr. Stedman? ‘ she said, grasping the huge paw.
    â€˜Why, Jim, your fifty-year-older.’
    â€˜Oh, him! ‘said Sarah. ‘ Being fifty doesn’t make him any more of a responsibility,—or any less, for that matter.’ They smiled at each other, two mature and responsible people smiling over an incorrigible child.
    For George Stedman, even Sarah admitted, was a man. It was not merely that he was six foot two and broad in proportion, that he had a heavy grey moustache and a fine head of curly grey hair, that his manner and speech were downright and confident. It was because his head was screwed on the right way and he ran a flourishing

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