If Winter ComesHutchinson, A. S. M. (Arthur Stuart-Menteth)
General
If Winter Comes
Hutchinson, A. S. M. (Arthur Stuart-Menteth)
Fiction
The Cloister Tea Rooms were above a pastry cook's on the first floor of
one of the old houses in The Precincts. The irregularly shaped room
provided several secluded: tables, and they took one in a remote corner.
But their conversation would have suffered nothing in a more central
and neighboured situation. Nona began some account of her summer
visitations. Sabre spoke a little of local businesses: had she seen the
new railway? Had he been round the Garden Home since her return? But the
subjects were but skirmishers thrown out before dense armies of thoughts
that massed behind; met, and trifled, and rode away. When pretence of
dragging out the meal could no longer be maintained, Nona looked at her
watch. "Well, I must be getting back. We haven't had a particularly
enormous tea, but the chauffeur's had none."
Sabre said, "Yes, let's get out of this." It was as though the thing had
been a strain.
He put her into the car. She was so very, very quiet. He said, "I've
half a mind to drive up with you. I'd like a ride, and a walk back."
She said the car could run him back, or take him straight over to Penny
Green. "Yes, come along up, Marko. They have rather fun in the billiard
room after tea."
He got in and she shared with him the heavy fur rug. "Not that I want
fun in the billiard room," he said.
She asked him lightly, "Pray what can we provide for you, then?"
"I just want to drive up with you."
III
It was only three miles to Northrepps. It seemed to Sabre an incredibly
short time before a turn in the road fronted them with the park gates.
And they had not spoken a word! He said, "By Jove, this car travels!
I'll get down at the gates, Nona. I'm not coming in. I want the walk
back."
She made no attempt to dissuade him. She leaned forward and called to
the chauffeur; but as the car began to slow down, she gave a little
catch of emotion and said, "Well, we have had a chatty drive. You'd
better change your mind and come along up, Marko."
He disengaged the rug from about him. "No, I think I'll get out here."
He turned towards her. "Look here, Nona. Get out here and walk up." He
echoed the little sound of feeling she had given, pretended laughter.
"It will do you good after that enormous tea."
She said something about the tea being too enormous for exertion.
The car drew up. He got out and turned to her. "Look here. Please do."
He saw the colour fade away upon her face. "What for?"
"To talk." It was all he could say.
She put away the rug and gave him her hand. Warm, and she said, "How
dreadfully cold your hand is! Go on and get your tea, Jeffries. I'm
going to walk up."
The man touched his cap. The car slid away and left them.
IV
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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