It was late—much later than her usual bedtime—and yet even when Leoni was in bed sleep seemed the last thing that she wanted. She lay wide awake, staring into the darkness, going over and over the incidents of that evening—and always ending with Lucas's astonished, disturbed exclamation, "But, good God, I thought you knew! She's my wife."
She tried—though for some reason, it made her miserable to do so—to think of him as a married man. Not long after she had seen him as a picturesque, arrogant young man, he had become a married man—married to that brilliant, commanding woman, "with emotions that were coarse rather than deep." That was a clever remark of Mrs. Dagram *s. Instinctively, Leoni knew that she was right. Sophie Rayter was not a fine-souled person.
But then there was her side of it too. Lucas himself had said that the blame was at least half his. Honesty forced Leoni to admit that that might well be so. Lucas was not an easy person to live with, she felt sure. ... At least, she felt nearly sure.
What had Mrs. Dagram meant by saying it did no girl any good to run around with a married man—apart from the intrinsic meaning, that was to say. Was she saying, in an oblique form, that she would not allow Leoni to go out with him again? And, if she meant that, was she not right?
And there—there, at last—Leoni had to face what she really knew. It was extremely unwise to continue to go out with Lucas if one's feelings were involved.
So many hours chimed from the nearby clock tower before Leoni fellasleep that it was no wonder she struggled to the surface reluctantly when she was called next morning. For the first time she understood Trudie's description of "not being fit to talk to until half-past eleven in the morning." Only with her it lasted most of the day.
Not that Leoni felt anxious to vent her temper on anyone, but she felt sad and depressed and disinclined to talk. It was a good thing that tomorrow would be Saturday. Though, of course, that didn't solve anyone's problems.
However, the thrill of receiving one's first salary envelope—albeit for only half a week—and the consciousness that there was to be a whole day and a half at one's disposal on the weekend, combined to raise one's spirits above the point where a broken heart could be seriously contemplated.
Besides, there was no decision yet—no irrevocable decision, that is—against seeing more of Lucas.
To Leoni's relief, and greatly to her surprise, auntie made no reference whatever either to Lucas or to the scene in the dressing room. Leoni could not quite decide whether" Mrs. Dagram had said anything to her about not discussing the matter further, or whether it was for some discreet reason of her own that she kept silent. But at any rate it was more than Leoni had dared to nope.
The rest of the family, with commendable lack of curiosity, merely asked if she had had a good time. It seemed to be the rule rather than the exception in the Dagram family to wish each other well but to wait for confidences instead of
angling for them. Leoni ccJnsidered this remarkable, without realizing quite how remarkable it was.
Trudie, certainly, made a few more inquiries, mostly because she was anxious to hear if the sequin collar and cuffs had done the wearer credit, and to her Leoni gave a fairly full account of the evening.
"He sounds extraordinarily nice,** Trudie commented approvingly, accepting the invitation to sample Lucas *s chocolates. "And he certainly takes a handsome view of an escort's duties. I should keep him to it, if I were you, Leoni.**
Leoni murmured noncommittally, and the subject was dropped.
But on Sunday evening Trudie, who had answered the telephone, stuck her head into the dining room and said, "You*re wanted on the, phone, Leoni. I'd say your expensive boyfriend has some new plans to propose."
"Oh—" Leoni jumped up so quickly that the book she had been reading slid to the floor. Then somehow she caught auntie's eye and, to her extreme annoyance, blushed deeply.
She managed not to run out of the room, but when she picked up the telephone she could not control the slight tremor of excitement in her voice.
"Hello! This is Leoni.**
But it was not Lucas's voice that replied. It was Norman Conby's. And for a moment the disappointment was so acute that she could not summon any real pleasure into her tone.
"How is life at the new office?** he wanted to know. "You sound very much subdued, Leoni. Are you happy, child, or have they made all the wrong arrangements for you?'*
With euilty emphasis Leoni assured him that she was happy—that the office was as nice as an office could be—and that she was living with the dearest family in London.
"Oh, I'm glad. I was beginning to wonder if anything was wrong.**
Leoni repeated with earnestness that nothing whatever was wrong, and asked him hastily if he had any news of Julia.
"Why, yes. She and her mother are coming to town next weekend, and I want to know whether you will make up a foursome with her and a friend of mine and myself on the
Saturday evening. Official duties cease at some reasonable hour on Saturday, I presume?"
Leoni assured him that official duties ceased at the satisfactory hour of twelve-thirty on Saturdays, and that she would be enchanted to meet him and Julia on Saturday evening.
*'All right, ril come for you about seven."
"Will you really? Come right out here to fetch me?"
"Of course. You'll need a car for the finery. Full evening dress, Leoni. That is to say, the famous and beautiful blue lace. We'll make it a gala night."
"Oh, thank you so much. It will be wonderful to see Julia again," exclaimed Leoni, as though she had not seen her friend for months.
"And how about me?" he wanted to know.
"Of course, I'm delighted to be seeing you again," Leoni hastened to assure him, hoping that she sounded as wholehearted about him as she had about Julia. Then she thanked him again and hung up.
"It wasn't the man you thought," she told Trudie, passing her in the hall as she came away from the telephone.
"Wasn't it? You've got a pretty good following for a poor orphan girl, haven't you? grinned Trudie. "That one sounded nice, too. Good speaking voice."
"Yes," Leoni said. "Yes, I suppose he has. And he's a dear. Safe and reliable and all that, you know."
Trudie said she did know, and did Leoni mean that her other string to her bow could not be described that way?
"Oh, I (fidn't mean that," Leoni hastened to assure her. And then she fell to wondering when she would see Lucas again, and if he would telephone her or communicate with her some other way—and, above all, if she ought to make some excuse when he did invite her out again.
It was halfway through the week before she did hear from Lucas again, but on Wednesday evening he too telephoned.
Perversely enough this time she thought it was Norman Conby, and the deliightful shock of discovering her mistake immediately threw her into confusion as to what she was to say.
He came straight to the point. "I rang you up to fix another evening, if you would like it, Leoni." And then, before she could gasp out either acceptance or a refusal, he
Take Me With You J03
went on, "I have seats for a very special ballet performance j on Saturday evening. Will you come with me? , With a feeling that she could not positively identify as either relief or disappointment, Leoni heard herself say, "Tm so sorry. I can't. She was amazed at the formality of her own tone, but perhaps nervousness accounted for that. j"I... Tm already booked for Saturday." ! There was the faintest pause, and then he said quite pleasantly, "Too bad. I ought to have given you longer notice, but I only managed to get hold of the tickets today."
All her instinct was to^say that she was terribly, terribly sorry, and that she was going with Norman and Julia and couldn't possibly put off her previous engagement, but that I she would far rather go with him anywhere.
But something much deeper than that eager impulse-something that had to do with a reluctant acceptance of what was right, rather than what was agreeable—prompted her to put her refusal of t
he invitation in the fewest and coolest words possible.
No need to enlarge upon the situation. No need, after all, to put into words what was so much better left unsaid. By simply omitting an explanation instead of giving one, she I could make him think that on reflection, she felt it was better not to go out with him again.
He knew quite well, on her own showing, that there had never before been anyone else to take her out. If she did not give him the specific explanation about Julia coming to ! town and Norman Conby wanting to take them out, then he could not think her plea of a prior engagement anything but the usual polite fib with which one covered a refusal.
Even now, from the coolly pleasant tone in which he was making conventional conversation, she knew that he had taken the hint. And a moment later he was saying goodbye in a voice which sounded casual enough but which, she knew, miserably and inevitably, was final.
After she hap hung up, Leoni stood with her hand on the telephone for quite a few moments longer. If she had known his number, she might, even then, have gone back on her resolve and rung him up to give an eager explanation. But the matter was out of her hands. And perhaps it was just as Iwell.
Unwilling to face the rest of the family just then, Leoni
turned and ran upstairs to her own room and drawing up a low chair, sat by her electric fire, gazing into its shallow, unwinking glow while she tried to bring her thoughts and feelings into some order.
. At least she had made a decision. Whatever else she hadn't done, she had made something of a break with Lucas, whether she could convince herself that it was for her own ultimate happiness or not.
Anyway, if he is married, it's no good indulging in any— well, any romantic ideas about him, Leoni told herself unhappily. And that was the nearest she came to admitting to herself that she had—perhaps for days or perhaps for years—thought of Lucas in a very special light indeed.
A knock on the door and a cheerful call from Trudie told her just then that supper was ready and, with a sigh, Leoni got up from her seat by the fire. It was ridiculous—it was even ungrateful—to indulge in any real degree of melancholy, considering her present circumstances, and how much she had reason to be thankful for.
During the rest of that week Leoni suffered a good deal more heartache and uncertainty, but at least she clung determinedly to her decision. And, however little she liked it, it became increasingly clear to her that it had been the right decision.
The arrival of Saturday could not fail to raise her spirits. The thought of seeing Julia was delightful in itself and she had to admit there was something both consoling and exciting about the idea of an evening's pleasure under Norman Conby's guidance.
Pauline insisted on helping her to dress, though the helping consisted mostly of asking questions and giving highly original advice on topics entirely outside her own experience. However, Leoni found the interest in her affairs both gratifying and touching, and certainly the little girl's admiration when Leoni was ready could not but add an extra touch of festivity to the occasion.
Norman arrived, punctual to the minute, and Leoni thought she had never liked him more than she did now, watching him make himself charming to all the Dagrams. His air of smiling deference to Mrs. Dagram as he promised to look after Leoni, his good-natured teasing and understanding of Pauline, his unaffected friendliness toward
Hugh, quite obviously commended him very highly to the whole family. And Leoni found herself wondering if she had quite appreciated Norman at his full worth before.
Just as they were going, he turned back to Mrs. Dagram. "Oh, I almost forgot the most important thing of all! May Mrs. Vandeem and Julia have Leoni for the whole of tomorrow? They're going out for the day—to see some friends just outside London, I believe, and they want to take Leoni with them.'*
"Well, Leoni?" Mrs. Dagram smiled at her. "Can you stand up to a whole weekend of social pleasures?"
"Oh, yes, of course! Please can I go?"
Permission was immediately granted, and Leoni saw that Mrs. Dagram very much appreciated the fact that both the Vandeems and Norman had deferred to her, before sweeping Leoni off into their own round of pleasure. If Leoni was not exactly in her charge, at least it made it much easier if friends had the grace to realize Mrs. Dagram had a good deal of responsibility in the matter.
Leoni caught herself wondering if Lucas would have acted with the same thought and tact. That had nothing to do with the present occasion, of course—or any future occasion, come to that. But she wanted to think that Mrs. Dagram would somehow approve of Lucas just as much as she obviously approved of Norman.
As they drove downtown, Norman asked all about her new life, agreed that the Dagrams appeared charming, and wanted to know how office life suited her.
Leoni found she was enjoying herself very much, telling him all about herself, while his mterested questions and the quick smiling glances, which he gave her from time to time, showed quite plainly that he found her and her affairs of importance.
"And this is the first opportunity youVe had of raising your head from the grinclstone and enjoying yourself, I suppose?"
"Well—no. Not really." She hoped that her momentary reluctance to explain was not apparent in her voice. "I went out for the evening almost as soon as I arrived here. Lucas Morrion took me out to dinner and a theater."
"Morrion did, eh?" She felt rather than saw that he
J 06 Take Me With You
raised his eyebrows over that. But he merely added politely, "What did you go to see?"
''Veronica.'' She wished this conversation were not so awkward, and hoped that the reply conveyed nothing significant to Norman.
"With Sophie Rayter, isn't it?''
"Yes." And then, because she felt she must rush into further speech, she added hastily, "He took me backstage to see her afterward. I was thrilled. I'd never seen an actress before."
"Took you to see her, did he?" repeated Norman, dryly, and then added the one word "Cad.'
"Oh, no! Why do vou say that?"
"Sorry. I shouldn t have. Pretty old acquaintance of hers, isn't he?"
To her horror, Leoni found she simply didn't know what to reply to this. If Norman didn't know the real truth of things, was it for her to give it away? And if she said nothing, wouldn't he continue to think something very much to Lucas's discredit?
Her difficulty was solved, somewhat unsatisfactorily, by their arriving just then at the hotel where Julia and her mother were staying, and so she was saved the necessity of any reply.
But as she went into the big, lighted foyer with Norman she could not help reflecting that this was just the sort of quandary in which one must expect to find oneself once an equivocal position has been allowed to develop. More than ever she saw she was right to have given Lucas his conge.
The appearance of Julia and Mrs. Vandeem drove all other less pleasant thoughts from her mind, and Julia's greeting was positively emotional, judged by her usual rather casual standards. Mrs. Vandeem was going out somewhere else and had only come down to greet Leoni and to see the girls off under the safe escort of Norman and a very cheerful young Guards officer, who now joined the group and appearecfto be a great friend of Julia's.
It was impossible not to be gay and happy in the midst of so much high spirits and so many plans for a happy evening. And as Julia and she crammed mto the back seat of Norman's small car, her last shade of worry and melancholy dropped from her. Everyone had their little disap-
pointmenls about people and events. She had been silly to Duild so much around anyone who was such an unknown quantity as Lucas. Understandable, no doubt, when she was a rather lonely, romantic little girl in an orphanage, but absurd now that life held so much.
And, in that moment, Leoni thought she finally dismissed Lucas from her thoughts.
Certainly for the rest of that evening there was enough to occupy her thoughts in the novelty and charm of dancing, dining and watching the best cabaret show in town in surroundings of sparkle a
nd brilliance such as Leoni had never dreamed of.
Oh, really, matron had not been quite right when she predicted a *'bread-and-butter" existence for Leoni!
The young Guards officer being quite obviously greatly interested in Julia, Norman and Leoni, to their mutual satisfaction, found themselves very much in each other's company. They were both good dancers and, under his expert guidance, Leoni soon acquired a variety of new steps, which had certainly found no place in the orthodox dancing lessons at school.
"You follow marvelously," he told her. "You're a natural dancer, Leoni. One of these evenings you must let me take you to the ballet. You 'd like that."
She hastened to say that indeed she would, but she felt an odd little stab of regret as she remembered in whose company she had been invited to go to the ballet that very evenmg.
Instinctively she changed the subject before any actual arrangement could be made. And then they talked of people, and he pointed out one or two celebrities to her (thereby showing that Lucas was not the only knowledgeable person in London) and gave her some odd bits of information about them. He had not Lucas's slightly cynical, cryptic turn of phrase, but he waii amusing and informative, and Leoni enjoyed herself
Thcie seemed remarkably little opportunity for talk with Julia, but there would be plenty of time for that tomorrow. It would be like old times to be spending a whole day together, and Leoni felt grateful to Mrs. Vandeem 's friends, whoever they might be, for allowing her to be included in the day's invitation.
It was late when they finally broke up their party, so that Julia said, *'We won't be making too early a start tomorrow. Will you meet mother and me at Waterloo, Leoni, or come right to the hotel? **
The second collection of 3 great novels by Mary Burchell Page 11
