Читать книгу The Dawn of Reckoning - James Hilton - Страница 23

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The party was arranged. Mrs. Monsell motored up with Stella, and Philip met them at the "White Horse" Hotel, where they all lunched together. Somehow the realisation that Stella was beautiful had never occurred to him quite so keenly as it did during those first moments of seeing her after his failure. Perhaps it was because he had never previously had so much time to think of anything outside his work; or perhaps it was some subtle alchemy in the Cambridge atmosphere that was making her more beautiful and himself more perceptive of it. At any rate, as he watched her across the table during lunch, he thought it strange that for so long he had missed something in her that he was seeing then.

That afternoon they motored about the town and district. Stella took the wheel, and he watched her, brown-faced and eager-eyed, as she picked her way cautiously round corners and drove swiftly along the straight vistas of Fenland road. There was some thing vital and passionate in even the least thing she did, the least movement of her head and hand—the clasp of her fingers on the rim of the steering-wheel, the quivering blade-like glance she gave at every cross-roads, and, above all, the slight smile that played about her lips as she thrilled to the sensation of speed. They drove through Girton, Impington, and Milton, to old Chesterton village, where the road creeps along by the riverside and broadens in front of The Pike and Eel inn. Here they meditated tea, and as they were climbing out of the car two "Rob-Roy" skiffs came flashing down the stream with the men in them paddling at top speed.

"Look—look!" cried Stella, in ecstasy. She was like a child when she saw swiftly moving things.

Her eyes kindled as she watched the approaching figures, and Philip smiled calmly, seeing nothing extraordinary in the spectacle. Then as the two men came nearer he exclaimed: "Why, one of them's Ward—a fellow I've asked in for to-morrow. Awfully nice chap—I'm sure you'll like him He's turning now—perhaps he'll see us."

As the skiffs curved back Philip shouted, and one of the men looked up, smiled shyly, and drew in at the bank. Then, as he clambered out (a somewhat risky business where the bank was steep) a not un usual accident occurred. A tuft of grass by which he was hauling himself on to the bank gave way, and with a mighty splash and a not too polite ejaculation he fell backwards into the water.

Philip turned very pale and looked first this way and then that, as if uncertain whether to attempt a rescue himself or to summon aid from the inn near by. "It's dangerous—" he cried excitedly. "The current is swift and there are reeds."

Stella, meanwhile, was roaring with laughter. It was the sort of thing that always amused her in kinema pictures. She was helpless with merriment.

Before she had finished laughing and before Philip had decided what, if anything, he should do, the victim had swum to an easy landing-place and was climbing to land. Voices from within the Pike and Eel gave an uproarious and ironical cheer.

The victim advanced towards Philip, shaking himself and smiling. "That's saved me a bath when I get home," he said. His smile was winsome and rather shy, and he laughingly declined to shake hands with them because he was both wet and muddy.

"It was very—very funny," said Stella, looking at him.

He laughed again, a laugh that was rather like the bark of a happy dog. "Here's my friend coming along. He's got a motor-bike. I'd better get home and change, I think."

"Then we shall see you again to-morrow?" said Mrs. Monsell.

"I shall be very pleased to come."

He smiled apologetically and then, bidding them good-bye, went off to join his friend.

Over tea in the Pike and Eel he was discussed: "Did you notice, Stella," said Mrs. Monsell, "how shy he was?—Really, to be embarrassed so charmingly is almost an accomplishment. It puts you at your ease."

Stella said: "He's like a Hungarian. He's big and he swims and he—he laughs at danger. I told you I'd tell you when I met an Englishman like a Hungarian. Well, he is."

Philip smiled. "You seem to have summed him up very quickly."

"Yes, I always do. And I know he's like a Hungarian. But I don't know whether I like him or not."