“Doda, you don’t. I’ve noticed it a long time.”
“Well, I am perfectly well. If I wasn’t I’d say so.”
Strike on!
Rosalie was called up on the telephone by the foreign friend. It was the evening, about ten o’clock. Doda was away for a week at Brighton with the foreign friend. She was due back to-morrow. Harry was out with Benji. Benji was nineteen then and was home on vacation from Oxford. Harry never could bear Benji out of his sight when Benji was home. In the affliction that had come upon them, he seemed to cling to Benji. Rosalie had persuaded him that evening to go with Benji to a concert. Harry said the idea of anything like that was detestable to him, but Rosalie had pleaded with him. Just a little chamber concert was different. It would do him so much good to have an evening away and to hear a little music and Benji would love it. Harry allowed himself to be persuaded and went off arm-in-arm with Benji. He always put his arm in Benji’s when he walked with Benji.
Rosalie was waiting for them when the telephone bell rang and she was spoken to by the foreign friend.
It then happened like this.
The voice of the foreign friend was very alarmingly urgent. “Would she come and see Doda at once, at once, at once?”
The voice struck a chill to the heart of Rosalie. “But where are you? You’re at Brighton, aren’t you? Are you speaking from Brighton?”
“No, no. At my flat. At my flat.”
“But what is it? What is it? Why don’t you tell me what it is?”