Prostitutes -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- England -- London -- Fiction
Christine cautiously answered that she was not sure whether she could
come.
"Are you alone?" he asked pleasantly.
"Yes, quite."
"Well, I will come and fetch you."
She decided exactly what she would do.
"No, no. I will come. I will come now. I shall be enchanted."
Purposely she spoke without conviction, maintaining a mysterious
reserve.
She returned to the sitting-room and the other man. Fortunately the
conversation on the telephone had been in French.
"See!" she said, speaking and feeling as though they were intimates.
"I have a lady friend who is ill. I am called to see her. I shall not
be long. I swear to you I shall not be long. Wait. Will you wait?"
"Yes," he replied, gazing at her.
"Put yourself at your ease."
She was relieved to find that she could so easily reconcile her desire
to please Gilbert with her pleasurable duty towards the protégé of the
very clement Virgin.
Chapter 19
THE VISIT
In the doorway of his flat Christine kissed G.J. vehemently, but with
a certain preoccupation; she was looking about her, very curious. The
way in which she raised her veil and raised her face, mysteriously
glanced at him, puckered her kind brow--these things thrilled him.
She said:
"You are quite alone, of course."
She said it nicely, even benevolently; nevertheless he seemed to hear
her saying: "You are quite alone, or, of course, you wouldn't have let
me come."
"I suppose it's through here," she murmured; and without waiting for
an invitation she passed direct into the lighted drawing-room and
stood there, observant.
He followed her. They were both nervous in the midst of the interior
which he was showing her for the first time, and which she was
silently estimating. For him she made an exquisite figure in the
drawing-room. She was so correct in her church-dress, so modest, prim
and demure. And her appearance clashed excitingly with his absolute
knowledge of her secret temperament. He had often hesitated in his
judgment of her. Was she good enough or was she not? But now he
thought more highly of her than ever. She was ideal, divine, the
realisation of a dream. And he felt extraordinarily pleased with
himself because, after much cautious indecision, he had invited her
to visit him. By heaven, she was young physically, and yet she knew
everything! Her miraculous youthfulness rejuvenated him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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