“
Surely he knows what he has to do
—
it could be something that has just turned up.
”
“
Well, he had a previous engagement here and shouldn
’
t have changed it Tell
him
I particularly want him. Why
,
soon we shall have all the boys back, and term will start again, and my weekends won
’
t be half so pleasant. Tell him that.
”
“
He sounded very busy, Sylvia,
”
Sylvia stared at her.
“
Whatever is the matter with you? Don
’
t you want to phone him?
”
“
Not if it is inconvenient for him; if it is interrupting him at something important.
”
“
Oh, fiddlesticks. He can speak on the telephone for a minute or
two without the world coming to a
n end. Now ran along and do it, or I shan
’
t know what is happening to my plans.
”
So Ingrid tried once more, asking the secretary for Mr. Edgeworth.
“
Who is calling?
”
“
I am speaking for Mrs. Southbrook.
”
“
Please hold the line. He isn
’
t here at the moment, but I will try to get him for you.
”
In a little while, Ingrid heard her voice again:
“
I
’
m so sorry, Mr. Edgeworth is in conference.
Could
you please ring again later?
”
“
At what time?
”
asked Ingrid.
She was given a time, and once more went back to report to Sylvia.
“
How annoying of him,
”
said Sylvia.
“He’s p
laying
hard
to get. Well, we will ring him again later. He needn
’
t think I will give up. He ought to know me better than that.
”
It seems to me, thought Ingrid, that they are both obstinate, but I expect Patrick will give in first: it
’
s almost unknown for Sylvia to give in about anything.
It was Patrick who gave in, and said he would come if it was
s
o important to Sylvia. He still bounded cold and distant, and Ingrid thought that, even if it could not be put down to the telephone, it could be put down to the fact that he did not like to be frequently disturbed at
his
work. Sylvia was, triumphant, and Ingrid too was glad that Patrick was to come. Since the evening in London
w
ith
him
, when she had found him
i
nteresting, she had begun to believe that he was, in fact, genuine in a way that Sylvia could never be genuine. His charm was something extraneous, that, no doubt, earned him many favo
u
rs, bu
t
she was now beginning to believe that he did not use it deliberately, but that it w
as
a natural charm of which he
was
not always conscious. Remembering again the evening on which he had held her shoulders between his hands, and asked her in a warm and pleasant voice if they could not be friends, Ingrid began to believe that it was possible.
So that it was a decided shock to her to find, when Patrick arrived on Saturday afternoon, that the telephone had not been the cause of the coldness in hi
s
voice, but that it retained its clipped and distant quality
—
at least when he was speaking to Ingrid
—
at close quarters. She had greeted him with a smile, seeing him come into the room with pleasure, seeing the charming smile, the golden head, with appreciation; and she had met with a formal politeness more suitable for a complete stranger. It puzzled her
.
This was a change of front that she did not understand, and she became quiet, realizing that he had the same friendliness still for Arnold and Sylvia, and only for herself did the coldness come back into his voice. What has happened, wondered Ingrid. Had she offended him in some way? She could think of nothing. Had he perhaps heard something disparaging of her from Sylvia? That was possible, of course, but Ingrid could not remember any crimes of commission or omission that could cause a complete change of front.
G
uests arrived for dinner that evening, Pamela among them, wearing a dress too grand for the occasion, appropriating Patrick as if she had an ackn
owledged right to him. Ingrid mi
ssed Laurence. He would have supported her ably. She missed Nora Everton too, who would have helped her with the meal. She sat between Arnold and Mr. Whitstone and tried to make conversation, aware of the fact that most interest was
centred
on Patrick and what he said, and that
Patrick had not once spoken to her freely, but only as occasion demanded.
That Pamela was deliberately making the running was obvious to all the women present, and that she did it with some success began to be equally obvious. Sylvia beamed. It seemed to her dearest dream was coming true. Already, at times, she allowed herself to think ahead to a wedding at the
O
rindea
n
h
o
me, with all the pomp and ceremony and publicity of a grand occa
si
on. If she should be quite recovered by the time this wedding was celebrated,
so
that she was able to take her place there as Patrick
’
s sister, her cup
o
f happiness would be full.
Ingrid did not enjoy this evening very much. When, later, in the absence of school maids who might otherwise have don
e
the job, Arnold and Ingrid washed up together, Arnold found her subdued. Still concerned lest the evening had given her too much work, he suggested that she should go to bed and leave the rest to him. She smiled at that, saying that she was not at all tired, and making conversation to hide the fact that she was feeling strangely disconsolate. In the privacy of her own room, however, she sat in the arm chair for some time before undressing, thinking back over the evening and trying to find the reason for Patrick
’
s behavior. He had never before ignored her, but had, in fact, offere
d
her
his
friends
hi
p. Now, he arbitrarily took it
away
. Slowly, the only reason that seemed at all possible occurred to her. He had said to her, on an earlier occasion, that her indifference was a challenge to him. He did not like people to be indifferent to him, and
s
o he had token up the challenge, used his charm on her deliberately, and succeeded in overcoming the indifference. He must have realized that by her response to his overtures; and,
hav
ing succeeded
—
and thought Ingrid, succeeded with only too little effort
—
he had no further interest in her.
Her cheeks burned to think that this could be true. Had he not also said to her:
“
I do not like to
b
e snubbed any more than anybody else?
”
That snub had evidently rankled, and he had been petty enough to decide to snub her in return. This evening, he had taken his opportunity: j
ust when s
he had been snugly deciding that it would be possible, after a
l
l, to enjoy a friendship with him, he had show
n
that he had no desire for it.
“
It
’
s the last time
,”
determined Ingrid, as she began to undress,
“
that I will let myself be hoaxed in that way. I should have trusted my first instincts about him.
”
She felt oddly lost and lonely. She wished that Laurence was back at school, so that they might talk and walk and discuss things together. She needed somebody to reinforce her confidence, needed somebody to cheer her up, to discount this dolefulness. Less than two weeks, she thought, and they will all be back, masters and boys, and
the
place will be full of life again.
Next afternoon she returned from an afternoon walk with Arnold to get tea for themselves and Sylvia, Patrick and Pamela. She was patiently waiting for the kettle to boil when the door leading to the lobby opened, and a girl came in, leading a dog. She said at ones:
“
O
h dear, I
’
ve made a mistake. I did the same thing once before. I meant to find the garden door, so that I could tie Sherry up, before I go to see Sylvia. I
’
m so sorry.
”
“
It doesn
’
t matter,
”
said Ingrid smiling, and leaning down to fondle the ears of the pretty spaniel, who was trying to make friends with her.
“
Sylvia doesn
’
t like dogs, you see,
”
said the girl. She was very pretty and quite young. Her bright brown hair was a little windblown, her cheeks a wonderful pink as if she had walked a long way, and her casual, well-cut clothes not quite the kind that Sylvia would approve of for Sunday calling. Ingrid took an immediate li
ki
ng to her.
“
I
’
ll show you where the garden is,
”
she
s
aid.
“
Thank you. I suppose you are Arnold
’
s sister the ministering ange
l.
I
’
m Paula Listane. I
’
m so glad to meet you.
”
Ingrid showed her where Sherry could be left, and said
she
would see Miss Listane again when she took in tea. When she carried in the tray, which Patrick immediately and politely relieved her of, she found that Paula was seated in inti
mate
conclave with Pamela and Sylvia, all three of them talking volubly and with considerable gaiety, which sounded to Ingrid not quite genuine. Ingrid served tea, Arnold carried cups, Patrick made himself useful supplying the ladies with food. He still maintained his irreproachable politeness to Ingrid.
“
But do tell us,
”
Sylvia
’
s voice said clearly,
“
when this wedding is going to be.
”
“
In June,
”
said Paula, smiling happily,
“
And where will you live?”
“
In London, to be near Peter
’
s work. We have the promise of a flat, too, which is quite wonderful. A friend of Peter
’
s is going to work in South Africa, and we can have
his
flat.
”
“
How lucky for you,
”
said Sylvia,
“
and how lucky for us. When we come to town, we shall be able to burden you with our presence over-night.
”
“
You will not,
”
said Paula, laughing.
“
It
’
s a tiny flat, quite unable to cope with visitors. You couldn
’
t possibly swing a cat
—though why any
body should want to, I can
’
t imagine. It
’
s really small. There is one consolation, however, we shan
’
t have to buy much furniture.
”
“
My dear,
”
said Pamela,
“
are you really going to be as poor as that?
”
“
Poor as church mice,
”
said Paula cheerfully.
“
You sound very chirpy about it,
”
smiled Arnold.
“
Camouflage,
”
said Sylvia, with a twisted little smile.
“
She
’
s being very brave about it. But really, Paula, how will you manage? You don
’
t know the first thing about housekeeping.
”
“
I can learn,
”
Paula replied, determined not to b
e
pitied.