London (England) -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
'Oh, to think how that creature must be enjoying it!' and went upstairs.
'If she isn't enjoying it any more than I am, she isn't having much of a
time,' said Cecil aloud to himself. He then dined in solemn silence,
Hyacinth (with a headache) being served in her own room.
When dinner was over he was glancing through the paper, wondering how he
should spend the evening, when a note arrived by a messenger. He saw it
was for Hyacinth, and in Eugenia's handwriting.
A few minutes later she came down, holding it in her hand.
'Cecil, she has written to me. She says they're going for a long
yachting cruise, that they won't be back in their house for a year.'
'Well, have you any objection?'
'Have you?' she asked, looking at him narrowly.
'No, I'm only too glad!'
'Did you ask her to do this?'
'Don't be idiotic. How could I ask her? I've neither seen nor
communicated with her.'
'Then how do you account for it, Cecil?'
'I don't account for it. Why should I? It isn't the first time Uncle
Ted's gone yachting. Though he hasn't done it for some years. He was
always saying he wanted to go to Crete, Samos, and the Ionian Islands.
He used to talk a good deal about wanting to see the Leucadian Rock.'
'What's that?' She spoke suspiciously.
'A place that some woman threw herself into the sea from.'
'Lately, do you mean?'
'Oh, no--some time ago. Anyhow, he wanted to see it I'm sure _I_ don't
know why. But that was his idea.'
'Well, she _says_ they're going to Greece, so perhaps you're right. And
are you really, really not sorry that she's going?'
'Not at all, if I'm going to have a little peace now.'
'Oh, Cecil,' she implored, 'have I been unfair to you?'
'Horribly unfair.'
'I'm very, very sorry. I see I was wrong. Oh, how could I be so horrid?'
'You _were_ down on me! Why, you wanted to go away! You did make me
pretty miserable.'
'Oh, poor boy! Then you don't care a bit for that woman, really?'
'Do you mean Eugenia? Not a straw!'
'And, oh, Cecil, if I'm _never_ so horrid and bad-tempered again, will
you forgive me?'
'Well, I'll try,' said Cecil.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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