English fiction -- 20th century; Husband and wife -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Short stories, English
“Have a heart,” said Pomeroy. “Henri’s already lost half a stone over
this business. If you give him an order like that, he’ll become a total
wreck.”
“He’s devoted to me,” said Belinda.
“I’m sure of that,” said Ivan. “But he loathes the look in my eye. It’s
the combination of devotion and abhorrence that makes him get so hot.
They sort of seethe together.”
“D’you propose to interfere with his execution of my orders?”
“Not exactly ‘interfere,’” said Ivan. “It’ll be more mental. I shall
sort of discourage him.”
Belinda drew in her breath.
“How long,” she demanded, “are you going on like this?”
Pomeroy rose.
“I’m not going on any longer,” he said quietly. “I’m through. More. I’ve
just come across from Bordeaux and I want a bath and a change. Reason
suggests that you’re using a first-floor suite. Very well. I shall go up
to the second floor.”
Belinda sprang to her feet.
“I absolutely refuse,” she flamed, “to consider such an idea. Good
heavens, man! Think of what people would say. What about my name?”
“Belinda,” said Pomeroy sternly, “you should have thought of that
before. I gave you—not an inch, but an ell. What’s my reward? You take
a furlong. . . . Good, full measure I gave you, without a word. You
chuck it in my face—and ask for more. Once would have been enough for
most men: because I loved you”—Belinda started—“yes, loved you, I let
you do it twice. I believed you merely thoughtless—wanted you to have a
good time, even if I had to pay. It never occurred to me that you were
twisting my tail.”
The girl’s eyes fell, and a finger flew to her lip.
Pomeroy proceeded quietly.
“If you neither love nor respect him, you can twist a man’s tail nearly
off—provided he loves you. But the man mustn’t know it, Belinda. The
moment he does, his self-respect won’t allow you to twist his tail any
more.”
For a moment the two stood silent.
Then the girl turned and, walking across the hall, entered one of the
salons and closed its door.
Pomeroy called his servants, and his luggage was taken upstairs.
* * * * *
For the burden of the next six days Lady Cherubic shall speak.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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