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optimistic for the future, but he had ordered Chris to continue his physiotherapy for the
time being.
Carline still gave him his treatments, including
the massage, a secret indulgement to her own longing.
She was sure Chris couldn't tell the difference
between now and hitherto. He couldn't know of the
love that flowed into her fingers, she argued with
herself, and to safeguard the certainty, she hardened
her voice and was stricter than ever over his exercises.
He continued to improve. At last he could have
the pleasure of taking a bath, and he naturally
preferred the beautiful green-tiled upstairs bathroom
to the small one used by the Vellers in the basement.
Returning from work one evening, Carline en-
countered Chris emerging from the first-floor bath-
room, looking just as attractively masculine as a tall, fair, clean-shaven young man can
look in a dark blue silk dressing gown. He paused on the landing as she came up the
stairs.
"Hello, Carline, have you had a hard day?"
"So, so," she said. "Have you been to work, too?"
"Not today. I had some business here." He laughed. "Veller has been digging out my
party clothes for the ball to see if I've grown too large for them."
"And how do they fit?"
"Like a glove, one size off standard."
Chris was still too thin. He had told Mr. Braive that he had always been on the lean
side, but that hadn't saved him from a session with the hospital dietitian, whose sheet
of nourishing instructions was carried out and enforced by the combined endeavors of
Carline and Mr. and Mrs. Veller.
"You don't know what a joy it is to come up to this bathroom and wallow," he said when
Carline drew level with him.
"I can guess."
She laughed and passed on, guessing he did not wish her to watch his labored
banister-gripping descent to the hall. All the same, now that he could get up to the first
floor, it would not be long before he could negotiate the slightly steeper stairs to the top
floor now her own quarters but in reality his quarters.
Chris would want his own rooms again, she thought. He could not be expected to
remain indefinitely in the basement, nor was the basement good for his health.
Therefore she must relinquish his rooms. And as she knew Chris would never consent
to make an exchange and let her sleep in the basement, there was only one solution to
the problem. She must go. Oddly enough, through the many days when she had
longed for Chris to get better, it had never occurred to her that his recovery would
amount to the signing of her own marching orders. Now she had to face it. It world be
wise to begin watching advertisements for a furnished room, a
bed-sitter most likely or, with the greatest good fortune, a tiny flat.
Even the lure of a flat did not seem enticing, away from Chelsea and this most
delectable of terraces. Carline dropped the evening newspaper without glancing at the
accommodation columns, and went into the bedroom to assure herself that her
stockings and shoes and gloves, at least, were in perfect order for the ball, now only
two evenings away.
The mulberry dress leered at her from the wardrobe.
Ha ha, my girl, don't put your faith in me, the dress seemed to say. I wasn't cut out for
a ball dress. I was stitched and seamed for the minor occasion, a quiet dinner-party or
may be the Old Girls' school reunion. You'll look very much of the old girl yourself if
you wear me to the Dorchester. What will Aldin think of you? And Christopher? Don't
forget that Christopher will be sitting down all the evening. He'll have nothing to do but
look at the dancers, including yourself. Do you care in the least what he thinks of you,
or doesn't it matter?
It did matter, so much so that Carline thought she might as well make herself tolerably
presentable for dinner this evening. It was June, the blue skies over the chimney-pots
were gilding with the first flush of sunset, and there didn't seem any reason why she
shouldn't wear her new blue silk for the evening, without the jacket. The dress was
sleeveless, the neck had a good line, and Carline decided not to spoil it with
ornaments except pearl ear rings and a cluster of bangles on one wrist.
She was brushing her hair into sleek, silky curves when Leone burst into the room,
carrying a brown paper parcel.
"See what I've brought you," she said, casting the parcel upon the bed and tearing the
string from it to reveal the sheen of black silk and a foam of black lace. "It's a model,
going cheap, and I thought of you at once."
Leone spread out the dress, showing how the lace underskirt revealed itself at the
hem, and pointing
out the long, flat, tailored bow of pale pink satin that finished the top of the fitted
bodice. The material was of a wonderful texture and quality, as Carline could see at a
glance.
"It's a faille," said Leone, stroking the black silk with reverent fingers. "They're letting
me have it for ten pounds. I expect they're selling it because it's rather small in the
fitting." She looked at Carline's figure. "But then you are small, considering your height.
Put it on and see if it fits."
"It's just on dinner time," said Carline.
"So it is." Leone smiled as she watched Carline pick up the dress and hold it against
her figure and glance at herself in the mirror. "Let's come up after dinner, and you can
try it on properly, shoes and everything. I should like to slip on my own dress again. I
rather fancy wearing a flower coronet. I've some artificial blossom I can fiddle with for
effects, but if I do decide upon it, I shall have a coronet of real flowers stephanotis
and lily-of-the-valley. Can one get stephanotis in June, do you know, Carline?"
"Provided you can pay for it, yes," said Carline.
"That will be all right," said Leone, tripping gaily down the stairs.
Carline presumed that Chris had told her she could go to the florist and order whatever
she liked to wear at the ball. As it happened, Aldin had enquired what color she herself
was wearing and she had answered evasively. She didn't want Aldin to give her
flowers. To wear his flowers seemed to commit her to Aldin in the eyes of his friends, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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