Jacqueline of Golden RiverEmanuel, V. R. (Victor Rousseau)
Philosophy
Jacqueline of Golden River
Emanuel, V. R. (Victor Rousseau)
Fiction
There was a faint and vague alarm in her eyes which made me glad for
her sake that she did not know.
"Now, Jacqueline," I said, "we shall have to begin to make ready for
our journey."
I had just remembered that the storage company which was to warehouse
my few belongings was to call that day. The van would probably be at
the house early in the morning, and it was essential that we should be
gone before it arrived.
Fortunately I had arranged to leave the door unlocked in case my
arrangements necessitated my early departure, and this was understood,
so that my absence would cause no surprise.
I showed Jacqueline the bathroom and drew the curtains. Then I went
into the kitchenette and made coffee on the gas range, and, since it
was too early for the arrival of my morning loaf, which was placed just
within the street door by the baker's boy every day, I made some toast
and buttered it.
I remember reflecting, with a relic of my old forced economy, how
fortunate it was that my pound of butter had just lasted until the
morning when I was to break up housekeeping.
When I took in the breakfast Jacqueline was waiting for me, looking
very dainty and charming. She was hungry, too, also a good sign.
She did not seem to understand that there was anything strange in the
situation in which we found ourselves. I did not know whether this was
due to her mental state or to that strange unsophistication which I had
already observed in her. At any rate, we ate our breakfast together as
naturally as though we were a married couple of long standing.
After the meal was ended, and we had fed the dog, Jacqueline insisted
on washing the dishes, and I showed her the kitchenette and let her do
so, though I should never have need for the cheap plates and cups again.
"Now, Jacqueline, we must go," I said.
I placed her neckpiece about her. I closed her bag, stuffing the bills
inside, and hung it on her arm. I could not resist a smile to see the
little pad covered with its maze of figures among the rolls of money.
I was afraid that the sight of it would awaken her memories, but she
only looked quietly at it and put it away.
I wanted her to let me bank her money for her, but did not like to ask
her. However, of her own account she took out the bills and handed
them to me.
"What a lot of money I have," she said. "I hardly thought there was so
much money in the world, Paul."
It was past eight when we left the house. I carried my suit-case and,
stopping at a neighbouring express office, had it sent to the Grand
Central station. And then I decided to take the dog to the animal's
home.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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