by MARY BURCHELL Honey Milward agreed to act as fiancee to the formidable plastic surgeon John Anston a man she'd always regarded as a monster. The arrangement was only for the benefit of John's visiting sister, an incorrigible matchmaker. Unfortunately his sister's visit looked like it might be permanent.And to complicate matters even further, Honey found herself tailing in love with him!
CHAPTER ONE
EVERYONE called her Honey, though she had been christenedwith some forethought Enid Fred-erica. Enid after her motherland Frederica after her rich Great-uncle Fred, who was cast for the role of godfather by Mrs. Milward in a moment of maternal optimism not afterwards justified. For when Greatuncle Fred was eventually gathered to his fathers he meanly left his godchild no more than a Toby jug and two hideous oil paintings of doubtful authenticity, while a rather obscure charity, benefited to the tune of something like 20,,000 pounds. But though Honey was faintly chagrined when Great-uncle Fred gave her this posthumous brush-off, she was not one to mourn unduly about things she couldn't do anything about. "We were never meant to be rich, I guess," she said equably to her mother. "Let the old gentleman rest -n peace." Mrs. Milward, normally the kindest of women, said nevertheless that this was letting Great-uncle Fred off too lightly. But her husband, a busy lawyer in Forchester, the nearest big town, remarked with rather maddening professional acumen, "Well, well, that's the way with most wills. Nobody's ever satisfied. You'd be surprised how often disgruntled relatives unburden themselves to me." "I wouldn't describe myself as a disgruntled relative," said Mrs. Milward, bridling over the justness of her cause; "Nor would any of the others," replied her husband good-humoredly. "Well, I'm glad we never really called Honey Frederica, ariyway," Mrs. Milward retorted. "So am I," Honey said, laughing. It was her adored older brother, Michael, who had first given her the name. For when some well-meaning visitor had gushed over the new baby and said, "Isn't she sweet!" Michael, from the superior height of five years, had surveyed the golden fluff on her head and said, "She ought to be.'She's got honey on top." The hair had darkened a little throughout the years, but the .silly name had stuck. Perhaps because she really was a honey; or perhaps because in summer her smooth skin tanned to honey gold color. At any rate, there 'was something appropriate about, the name, and Honey she had remained. The Milwards lived in a big,. pleasant, slightly shabby but indefinably elegant house on the outskirts of Meadlands, the prettiest village in the whole county of Edomshire. Every day Mr. Milward drove the 20-odd miles into Forchester, and once a week his wife accompanied him to do her shopping. Michael, having grown up into quite a brilliant building engineer, had gone off some years ago to build bridges in remote parts of the world. But, even now, he was apt to turn up without warning from the ends of the earth and arrive on the parental doorstep, secure in the knowledge that his sister would welcome him with hugs and kisses, his mother with a few tears, and his father with a great show of having expected him anyway. All of which meant, of course, that they were enchanted to see him. The last time he had done this. Honey had not been available to play her part with her usual fervor, for she had been in the throes of her first few months' of training at St. Margaret's, the big general hospital in Forchester, And, although she was lucky to be sufficiently near home to rush there on her free days, no one who has gone through those first few gruelling months in a big hospital will be surprised to hear that, once she was off duty, Honey's one idea had been to get off her aching feet and relax. But those days were far behind her now Honey had entered her third year at St. Margaret's and had an air of calm efficiency that proved itself against most emergencies. Though not all< she thought, as she stood at the dining-room window looking over the early summertime beauty of the gardennot all. Not, for instance, that unlucky brush with Dr. Anston. Honey was just starting on a week's Vacation and had meant to celebrate the first day by having breakfast in bed. But habit and the soft June sunshine had been too much for her, and so here she wasdownstairs before her parents, idling away the few minutes before breakfast and trying not to think of Dr. Anston. Most people were a little afraid of the brilliant plastic surgeon, who came from London onceand sometimes twicea week to operate at St. Margaret's. Only the patients saw no fault in him/overlooking everything but the fact that those strong, fine, beautiful hands could restore them to normal happy life when they had desperately feared that they must go on through the years disfigured or deformed, At one time Honey had not feared him either, because she too thought that genius was entitled to indulge in curtness and some sarcasm which need not be taken too much to heart. But recently there had been a series of unfortunate happeningsbeginning with the time when she had impulsively and inexplica"biy spoken up in defense of a petrified nurse who had incurred his wrath. It was one of those occasions when one, if wise, held one's peace, however much one might seethe inside. But Honey had rushed indignantly to the defense of the other girl. If she had stopped short of saying that the great man was being unjust, she had somehow managed to imply that she thought he was. Sister's eyes had almost popped out of her head, and afterward Honey had received a severe reprimand. But Sister's sharp words were dew and rose petals compared to the awful experience of having Dr. Anston fix his glance upon her for long seconds in a sort of reflective chilliness. Then, when her temperature was well below normal, he said, "It's good of you, Nurse, to let us have your valuable and refreshing views. But you are troubling yourself unduly. I am capable of assessing a situation myself." That was all. ("And enough, too" as Barbara Conway, Honey's special friend at St. Margaret's, afterward remarked.) But Honey was on duty in Dr. Anston's operating room, and so she saw him week after week. He never addressed her personally again. But occasionally, between cases, his coolly reflective gray eyes would, regard her over his mask, and she would know that he ' recognized her as the nurse who had not known her place. All this would have been bad enough. But only a Jew days before she had gone on vacationrecently enough to spoil one's holiday if one did not stop thinking about the incidentHoney, coming off duty, had paused in the narrow pathway between the hospital and the nurses' residence to have a word with Barbara and a second-year nurse called Manners. Manners was declaring that Dr. Edwards, one of the visiting physicians, was the most exacting creature on earth, but Honey felt that this assertion must be challenged. Forgetting the foolishness of expressing criticism near the hospital premises, she said clearly and feelingly, "Oh, but, my dear, just thank God o"n yourknees that you don't work for Dr. Anston. He may be handsome and he may be a genius, but if you cross him he's a monster. Why, he" She stopped, because suddenly she realized that Barbara's countenance had become a queer, greenish shade, while Manners was opening and shutting her mouth wordlessly, like a goldfish. Then a familiar voice said, almost at her elbow, "Good evening, Nurse," and Dr. Anston passed, leaving behind him a 'silence as profound as if he had donned the black cap -and delivered fatal judgment. "Do you think he heard?" asked Honey in a whisper when he had passed far beyond shouting range. Barbara tried gallantly to insist that she thought not. But her companion was depressingly realistic. "He couldn't have failed to," she said glumly. Then there seemed little else to say. So they had gone their separate ways, the other two girls taking leave of Honey much as prisoners in the French Revolution must have done when the selection for the tumbrils had been announced.... Oh wellHoney gave a resigned shrug and turned away from the window as her mother entered the room. The thought of Dr. Anston was not going to spoil her week's holiday. "Hello, darling." Her mother's air was affectionate but preoccupied. "You're coming to the meeting this afternoon, aren't you?" "The meeting?" Honey smiled inquiringly, knowing that her mother discharged with enthusiasm and efficiency a number of public duties. "It's our group meetingthe. Women's Institute, you know. And Madame Seroni is going to speak for us. Such a
triumph to get such an interesting and unu'sual speaker." And Mrs. Milward, from whom Honey had inherited her lovely smile, looked as pleased as a child who unexpectedly finds itself at the top of the class. "Your capture, I take it?" Honey looked amused but respectful. "Yes." It was obvious from Mrs. Milward's serene air that the simple, triumphant affirmative needed no embellishing. "But I thought she was a singer, not a speaker." "She is a singer, darling. A very famous singer. Command performances of 'Messiah' and that sort of thing. She must have lots of the most enchanting reminiscences and, although she is getting on now, I believe she is still very handsome, which does help. Particularly at a group meeting," added Mrs. Milward, whose meaning will be clear to all who have suffered from the type of lecturer who should be heard and not seen. "She moved quite recently into the neighbourhood, didn't she?" said Honey, coming to the table. "Oh, yes! Or else there wouldn't have been a hope of getting her. Not a hope," declared Mrs,. Milward, also sitting down and beginning to flip through her -mail, but with a casual air that showed she meant to complete the story other prize capture. "Mrs. Turtle , was the Convener this year, so of course the speaker was really her affair. But, though I don't want to be unkind, she has no inspiration above talks on beekeeping or the travels of some dull writer or other. And then I heard about Madame Seroni coming to the neighborhood, and like a flashbut really like a flashthe idea came to me: Why not ask her for the group meeting? So with Mrs. Turtle's agreement, I wrotebecause it's a little more impressive, you know, dear, if the chairman writesand her acceptance came by return mail." "I daresay she was gratified to be asked," said Honey with a smile. "I'll certainly come to the meeting and witness your triumph." Mrs. Milward smiled modestly in her turn and helped herself to coffee. "I hope I'm not un-christianlike," she said, obviously fearing that she was, "but when I told Miss Emms, I knew exactly what the.Bible means by being puffed up with pride. Because she will sit in the front row and look as though I don't know anything, just because she was a founder member of the Institute 18 years ago. But when I told her the news about Madame Seroni, Miss Emms hadn't a word to say. Not one word." "Impossible," said Honey's father, coming in and dropping a kiss on his wife's smooth cheek. "I've known Selina Emms for 40 years, and. in all that time she's never changed the shape of her hats nor been at a loss for words. Hello, Honey. Good to be home and 7. free from worries?" He bent and kissed her on the cheek. Honey thought of Dr. Anston. But she smiled at her father and said, "Very good." Then she poured out his coffee for him while her mother attended to her letters. She was just about to ask about Michael's most recent news, when a slight cry from Mrs. Milward drew the attention of both of them. "Oh, no! No, that's impossible! She can't do that." Honey's mother began to scrabble distractedly through the rest of her letters, as though she might find something to contradict whatever had overwhelmed her in the first one. "What is it?" Honey looked half-frightened. "It's ... it's Madame Seroni." Her mother choked on something suspiciously like a sob. "She says she can't come, after all. That she's going to London today. Just like that. As this were any day." "But she can't!" Honey caught the infection other mother's near panic. "She promised." "Who," inquired Mr. Milward, with ill-judged mildness, "is Madame Seroni?""I told you!" his wife cried reproachfully. "She's our speaker for the group meeting. And now she says she can"'t come." "Well, these things do happen," Mr. Milward said, with the incredible philosophy of one not personally involved. "You'll just have to get someone else. I suppose there are other speakers." "The meeting," stated Mrs. Milward, looking at her husband as though she wondered for the first time why she had married him, "is this afternoon. And Miss Emms will be sitting in the front row, waiting for something to go wrong. And all the other brilliantly efficient chairmen of all the other institutes in the group will be there on the platform. And the secretaries too, if there's room," she added, in distracted parenthesis. "And the county representative. And there's no speaker. " "Honey will speak to them on nursing," suggested Mr, Milward with unwelcome humor. "They don't want Honey." Mrs. Milward, who very properly thought her child the best and most wonderful child on earth, dismissed Honey on this occasion with a flick of her hand. "They've been promised a celebrity and they expect a celebrity." "Can't you just apologize and say" "Oh, don't be stupid!" cried poor Mrs. Milward. "You can't apologize to 21.7 women who are expecting to be entertained." "It's a formidable thought," her husband conceded. "If I didn't think they'd be bored to tears, I'd make you come along and talk to them about law," said Mrs. Milward, frankness getting the better of her natural politeness. "And if 1 had time," replied her husband, somewhat piqued by this, "I'd come and prove to you all that Saw can be absorbing. But I haven't time," he added hastily and getting to his feet, he saw a fanatical gleam come into his wife's eye. "I must go now." "'But this afternoon, James" "Quite impossible, darling. Case ofjones v. Jones," declared her husband firmly. "Goodby" He kissed his wife and patted Honey's head as he passed. "Don't worry. It will turn out ali right in the end." And off he went to what he mistakenly supposed were more pressing problems. "And then they say, Honey, that your father's an exceptionally intelligent man," Mrs. Miiward said, looking after him. Turn out all right in the end, indeed! With Miss Emms in the front row and no speaker!" Honey, truly sorry for her mother and realizing the depth of her humiliating predicament, made one or two tentative suggestions for a substitute speaker. But Mrs. Milward dismissed the vicar as lacking in novelty value and Miss Cutts, the local literary light, with the simple but devastating statement, "She will read her own poetry." "Then I suggest we make one more bid for Madame Seroni," Honey declared, studying the letter that her mother had passed to her. "She says she is going to London today. I don't see how she can go before the 11:30 train. Suppose I cycle over and explain to her. That's much more telling than a phone call. And she probably doesn't even realize what a crisis she's precipitated." "Oh, Honey! Would you really, darling? I've so much else to do for the meeting, and if anyone could persuade her, you could. Don't you mind tackling her?" "Not in the least," said Honey, thinking of Dr. Anston and restraining herself with difficulty from saying that her mother lived a more sheltered life than she realized. "You know the house, don't you?" Mrs. Milward followed her daughter out into the hall. "The one with the whitewashed walls and the green shutters just about three miles out on the road to Forchester. It's called Four Trees, but the name was worn off the gate long ago, and there are only three trees now. 10 But, of course, the name hasn't been changed." "I know." Honey was reassuring. "Old Mrs. Aitken lived there for about 100 years. Do you think I look presentable enough to interview a prima donna? Orshall I try to look more fetching?" She critically studied her reflection in the hall mirror. "You look lovely, darling," declared her mother. "That green linen is just right with your fair hair." And she .too looked in the mirror for a moment and thought that Madame Seroni would have to be hardhearted indeed to resist the appeal of Honey's big brown eyes and her soft, smiling red mouth. "Don't you want a jacket?" "No. It wiSS be warm cycling. Try not to worry," Honey said kindly, as she wheeled her bicycle onto the gravel drive. "I'll bring back an acceptance from ,Madame Seroni, or perish in the attempt." "Oh no, dear. Not that," amended Mrs. Milward, seeing things in better proportion for a moment. But Honey only laughed and, mounting her bicycle, waved and set off. It was wonderful gliding smoothly along the road in the sunshine, with no one to remind her of 101 duties or an almost stop-watch routine. The birds sang and the warm, sweet scent of the clover drifted to her from the nearby fields. A few clouds rode high in the sky, and occasionally a cloud-shadow passed slowly over the landscape. Everything seemed so peaceful and radiant that Honey knew she was going to make a success of her mission. Her qualms were so few that she hardly even rehearsed her opening sentences. As the road was a good one, she made excellent time, and long before Madame Seroni could be thinking of leaving for the 11:30 train. Honey was cycling up the long drive to the imposing Four Trees. Dismounting, she propped her bicycle against the side of the porch and rang
the bell. Almost immediately she heard the sound of footsteps crossing the hall. The door was opened by an elderly maid of somewhat forbidding appearance. "I wonder if I might see Madame Seroni," Honey smiled in her most winning manner. "It's rather urgent or I wouldn't" "I'm sorry. Madame is away. She went to London this morning." "She's gone?" Honey was aghast, because somehow she had allowed her natural optimism to override possibilities. "But she can't have gone. The 11:30 is the first train." ' "Madame travels by car," replied the maid with superb contempt for any other form of locomotion. "She will be back tomorrow night." She was away for only two days, and one of them had to be the day of the group meeting! "Tomorrow night will be too late," Honey said, and even to her own ears that sounded rather excessively tragic. The maid actually looked slightly disturbed and started to say something else. But at that moment a second person crossed the hall and Honey, who thought that she must have wandered into a nightmare, heard an unmistakable voice say, "What is it, Palmer?" "It's a young lady wanting Madame, sir." The maid spoke over her shoulder. "But I've just been explaining that she's already gone." Then Palmer stepped aside to disclose to Honey's incredulous and horrified gaze Dr. Anston, looking very much at ease in gray flannel slacks and white 12 shirt. She was completely taken aback by him. "I'm afraid-" he began. Then he stopped. "Good morning. Nurse." The tone had changed subtly. "What are you doing in this part of the world?" "I... live here," explained Honey, with a confused belief that she had no right to be living anywhere at the moment. "Do you really? Won't you come in and let met see if I can do anything for you?" If she had retained any common sense, of course, Honey would have said there was nothing he could do and Bed from the spot. But Palmer was already opening the door wide to disclose a-beautiful square, panelled hall. Fascinated, Honey entered the house, which Dr. Anston seemed so unaccountably to be at home in. "I gather it was my aunt you wanted, but" "Your auntf" Honey was shocked into exclaiming, for somehow one does not think of the Olympians as having aunts. "Is Madame Seroni your aunt?" "Yes. Even monsters have relatives, you know," he replied carelessly. So carelessly that it was a moment before Honey realized what he had said. Then the implication hit her with the shock of delayed action, so that she blushed furiously and dropped her eyes. Was it something quite personal,' or can I help?"' Dr. Anston sounded studiously polite, but she had the curious impression that he was enjoying himself. "It... it was about the group meeting," stammered Honey, demoralized by the reference to monsters but clinging gallantly to the purpose of her visit. "The group meeting of the Women's Institutes. Your...I mean Madame Seroni was to be the speaker. And now she's gone away and the meeting is this afternoon. *3 There are ? don't know how many women coming, expecting a. brilliant and entertaining speaker. My mother, who is a darling and the chairman responsible for everything going smoothly, is at her wits' end. I thought if I came over and explained to Madame Seroni, she might understand and cancel her London " visit; But she's gone already, so I don't know what we can do." "I see." Dr. Anston looked so gravely reflective that Honey immediately susp&cied him of laughing at her. For she could not imagine that a busy and famous surgeon would really concern himself with the details of a village crisis. "I don't expect you see at all," she was rather frightened to hear herself say. But she was goaded on by a sort of angry protectiveness toward her mother and all the other kind, ordinary people whose affairs were deeply important to themselves, even if despised by Dr. Anston. "I suppose you think a Women's Institute is a rather comic sort of gathering where a lot of women talk a good deal and do nothing, and that even if my mother is humiliated by failing her friends, it's all very trivial and" "Just a moment." Dr. Anston raised his hand, in the gesture that was reputed to quell the most unruly class of students in a matter of seconds. It reduced Honey to instantaneous silence. "It would be better," he said driy, "if you would let me speak for myself instead of saddling me with views I don't hold in order to berate me for my wrongheaded notions. To begin with, I happen to know quite a lot about Women's Institutes" "Do you?" gasped Honey, pleasurably shocked by the incongruity of this. **and there is not very much," he went on, "that you can tell me about the solid work and the goodness of heart to be found among their members. When I was a young doctor, just beginning" Honey gasped again because somehow one never thought of Dr. Anston as anything but supremely confident and successful. I worked in a scattered rural district. I had plenty of occasion to bless the Institute's friendliness and efficiency. And because of those days and not at all because you have seen fit to lecture me on my natural callousness of disposition, I will very willingly help your mother out of this fix, if I can. How would it do if I gave them a talk?" "You, Dr. Anston!" Honey was filled with astonishment and remorse, but a certain amount of misgiving crept in. "It's ... it's awfully good of you, and I think " once more she hastily reviewed and rejected, the vicar and the local poetess "I think my mother would be tremendously grateful." "Very well." "But" Honey had a vision of Dr. Anston lecturing the group meeting in the cool, precise and academic terms of a medical school "they like something very human you know." "Meaning that I am inhuman?" "Oh no!" Honey blushed to the roots of her hair, aware that the truth had crept out. "I... I didn't mean anything personal. I meant the type of talk, you know. That's what has to be human. Nothing about anatomy or anything like that," she concluded feebly. "I'll do my best," said Dr. Anston gravely. "Where is the meeting?" "At the Village Hall in Meadlandsat two-thirty." . "Very well. Tell your mother I'll be there." i5 With the confused impression that she was presenting the group meeting with either a triumphant success or a disastrous failure. Honey groped once more for a suitable expression of gratitude. "It's extraordinarily kind of you," she said shyly. "Not at all." The doctor's smile was faintly sardonic but not without charm. "I feel there is a sort of family responsibility involved. It was really too bad of my aunt to let your mother down in this way. But she is an artist and inclined to think her own affairs rank above any others. I am sure she had no idea of the crisis she was precipitating." "Well, it's quite all right now." Honey said, hoping profoundly that it was. Then there seemed nothing to do but to take leave of him. Dr. Anston accompanied her to the door. Honey feeling all the time that she really, ought to'say something in the way of apologyboth for the manner in which she had lectured the most distinguished surgeon at St. Margaret's, and for the most unfortunate term she had used to describe him in the conversation he had all too obviously overheard. But it was difficult to think of anything casual or graceful -when he looked so unfairly cool and remote, and she felt so shaken and gauche. He watched her mount her bicycle, and even this she did with less than her usual skill because Dr. Anston was looking on. Then he raised his hand in an amused gesture of something more like dismissal than farewell. And Honey, her errand completed, rode off down the drive once more. " All the way home she was reliving the incredible encounter and thinking of the cool, dignified, and telling things she might have said. But, alas, all that 16 was too late now. Her rash and indignant indictment could only have confirmed his obvious belief that she was both foolish and rude. Depressed as she was over these reflections and by the- general feeling of.-failure, Honey was both astonished and pleased to receive unstinted praise from her mother on the new arrangement. "Why, Honey darling, how resourceful of you! What a wonderful way to save the day. And how incredibly fortunate that he happened to be a friend of yours." Honey winced. "Not exactly a friend," she murmured feelingly, "Well, I know, of course, that there is a professional and social gap between a famous surgeon and a third year nurse," Mrs. Milward conceded cheerfully. She obviously thought that when a nurse was as pretty as her own Honey, the gap insensibly narrowed. "But I'm sure he wouldn't have done it for just anybody. However kind hejnay be," she added, enthusiastic for the beauty other rescuer's disposition. Honey wanted to say that Dr. Anston was not at all kind and that her mother was gathering a very curious and idealized impression of him. But, with so many problems still to attend to, it seemed a shame at any rate to shatter her m
other's peace of mind on the important topic of the speaker. "I only hope he won't be too academic," was all she said. "Oh, I'm sure he won'tl And there's something so romantic about a famous surgeon. And a plastic surgeon at that. Think of the human stories he must have among his reminiscences. Is he anything to look at?" Honey was silent for a moment, trying to consider i7 the question of Dr. Anston's looks objectively. "I suppose," she said reluctantly at last, "most people would call him very good-looking.' He's tall, medium fair, and has tremendously intelligent, rather cold gray eyes." "Splertdid!" said Mrs. Milward absently, as she .wrote out price tickets for the market stall. "He sounds exactly what we want." "Oh, Mother, don't be sentimental," cried Honey crossly. Her mother merely smiled and said, "But I am sentimental, darling. Most nice, middle-aged women are. How old is your Dr. Anston and what is his other name?" "Oh, I suppose he's in his mid-thirties and no one ever calls him by his other name, I'm sure," Honey declared. "They must, dear. His mother couldn't have called him Dr. Anston when he was in knee-pants," declared Mrs. Milward, thereby conjuring up such an unusual view of the man that Honey was struck dumb for a moment. Then she said meekly, "I know his initials arej.0. I suppose he's John or James or something." "I shall ask him" replied Mrs. Milward, still writing price tickets. "Mother, you can't!" All Honey's professional instincts were outraged. "One isn't on those terms with the consultants." "What terms? I will be the chairman," replied Mrs. Milward, with an air of sweet obstinacy. "And I will say, 'What is your full name. Dr. Anston, as I have to announce you. What would you like me to say about you?' " Honev gave up then, because if Mother ivoiild not 18 understand about Dr. Anston, she would just have to accept the snub when it occurred. The rest of the morning resolved itself into a sort of ordered rush, involving half a dozen trips to the charming village hall a mild discussion on decorations, a very passionate one about who was to sit where on the platform, and a considerable exchange of congratulation on the admirable refreshments that were fast. being assembled under the experienced management of Mrs. Turtle. "It all looks very nice." Mrs. Milward drew a sigh of relief as she stood beside Honey taking a final view of the hall before hurrying home to a brief lunch. "I do hope it's going to be a success." "I'm sure it will be," Honey declared positively. The more positively as the shadow of Miss Emms's hat fell across them. "Miss Emm's authoritative and mannish voice said, "I still think, Enid" she always addressed Mrs. Milward as though she were a school prefect "-that it would have been .wiser to use teapots instead of the um. Um tea never tastes the same." "But for rapid serving the um is almost essential," insisted Mrs. Milward. "Nothing's worse than having half of your visitors enjoying their tea while the others sit with their tongues hanging out, waiting for kettles to boil." Miss Emms smiled pityingly. "It's a question of organization," she said. "I remember just before the war, when I happened to be chairman, there was a giant rally at Duneldon. We served 500 teas in something like a quarter of an hourall from teapots." Mrs. Milward smiled politely, while obviously struggling with one word, "Liar!" "But of course those were other days," added Miss 19 . Emmsa generalization that canrfot be denied but can carry the most insulting implications. "I do hope you were right in getting this singing woman to come. I'm not very happy about it." "Oh, but haven't you heard?" Mrs. Milward's face lit up with pleasure and pride. "Madame Seroni can't come after all, but we have been most fortunate in securing the very distinguished services of the famous plastic surgeon. Dr. Anston." She was obviously releasing her opening remarks. "Did that' change go before the committee for approval?" inquired Miss Emms, undefeated. "No, of course not. The change was only made this morning," countered Mrs. Milward. Up went Miss Emms's scanty eyebrows and she jammed her hat farther down on her head. "Then you mean, Enid, that no one knows anything about this man?" "Of course they do!" cried Mrs. Milward lightheartediy. "He's a great friend of Honey's" ' "Oh, Mother!" "And generally considered the most brilliant surgeon at St. Margaret's," continued Mrs. Milward, undeterred. "We were extraordinarily lucky to get him. I believe he is a very handsome man with a fund of human anecdotes, both amusing and moving.-" Even Miss Emms looked impressed by this and only recovered sufficiently to say it was a pity it was not a woman surgeon, before Mrs. Milward and Honey said firm goodbyes and left the hall. "Tiresome woman," exclaimed Mrs. Milward, as they walked down/the village street together; but it was evident that she was not really ruffled, for she was secure in the firm conviction tha,t all she had .said was 20 true. She's much too finicky about everything, she is." Lunch was a hurried affair, and almost before it was over, buses, carrying their quota of Institute members from other villages, were speeding past the house on their way to the village hall. One or two ladies of the committee called in as they were about to leave their house, and one of them said to Honey, "I'm so glad your friend was able to come, Honey. It would have been dreadful if there had been no speaker." "Dr. Anston isn't exactly a friend," Honey began. "No, no, of course not. I know. But your knowing him made all the difference." Honey thought of Dr. Anston's nasty speech about rejecting her lecture on his general callousness. "I don't think I really had much to do with it," she said" modestly. But this disclaimer was brushed aside with a laugh, and Honey gave up the impossible task of explaining her exact relationship with Dr. Anston. When they- arrived at the hall her mother said, "You'd better wait at the door and make him welcome. After all, you're the only person who will recognize him. "As he's the only man attending the meeting, that shouldn't be difficult," Honey pointed out. But, everyone seemed to think that the job of welcoming the speaker should devolve upon her. So, outwardly smiling and inwardly quaking, Honey stood near the door and received several personal congratulations on having secured "her friend" for this last-minute occasion. Half a dozen times she found herself explaining that Dr. Anston was "not exactly a friend." But as most people seemed to take the curious view that this meant their relationship had a greater rather than a lesser degree of intimacy, she gave up trying to put 21 things right.-Presently she saw a black Jaguar drive up and stop outside the hall, and half a minute later Dr. Anston got out. Somewhat nervously Honey went down the path to , the gate to greet him. He was hatless and, she had to admit, was looking quite extraordinarily handsome. When he shook hands with her she found herself thinking that it was the first time she had actually felt that famous hand around hers. It did not surprise her that the hand felt so strong, but the light delicacy of touch moved and intrigued her. As they went up the path together he said, "By the way, what is your name?" "Honey," she replied, taken somewhat off her guard. "Am I expected to call you Honey?" Dr. Anston inquired with an amused glance. "Oh no!" Honey was abashed. "No, I'm sorry. I thought you knew my other name, though of course there's no reason why you should. My name is really Enid Milward. But everyone calls me Honey, though why, I don't know." " 'Ml chiamano Mimi, ma perche non so,' " quoted Dr. Anston with an amazingly excellent Italian accent. Then they went into the crowded hall. There was a tremendous rustle of interest, and Honey blushed under her golden tan at being coupled with Dr. Anston in this extraordinary and unexpected manner. However, she efficiently piloted him to the side of the platform, where Mrs. Turtle received him almost with open arms. "So good of you!" She wrung him by the hand. "Just up the side stairs here. But wouldn't you like Honey to come onto the platform with you?" 22 "No!" was the explosive whisper from Honey. "I would love Honey to accompany me," replied Dr. Anston clearly, on a note of quite horrid amusement. "But I think" he surveyed the formidable array ofchairmen and secretaries already assembled there.'"I think no arrangement has been made for that." So Dr. Anston was ushered onto the platform on his own, and from the body of the hall Honey saw her mother greet him with all the charm at her disposal which was a great deal. There was a certain amount of rearrangement and whispered introductions, and then the doctor settled back in his chair and looked most amazingly at ease. The chairman's opening remarks were delivered, the minutes were read, and the group meeting was well underway. 23
Honey Page 1
