“I won’t tell her. I promise not to tell.”
“Thank you,” he had replied warmly. “It will be better. I would rather—”
He paused at that, but there was about him a transparency of candour which made it easy to divine what he had been about to say, “I’ll would rather tell her myself!”
Vanna’s heart knew a little cramp of envy at all which that sentence implied.
Next morning, over a late and leisurely breakfast, Jean had much to say on the subject of her last night’s experiences.
“I danced a hole in my slippers—a little one, and quite a big one in Captain Gregson’s heart. He is, like all sailors, absurdly susceptible. I made only my second-best eyes at him. Like this! In my best effort I look up helplessly, appealingly, and then, down, quite a long time down, because curling dark eyelashes look so well when one’s cheeks are flushed. I just opened them rather widely at the Captain once or twice as we sat out after a dance, and he fell down flat. Dear, big, stupid thing, he can’t take care of himself one bit. He asked if he might call, but I shan’t be at home. I always stop short of the danger-point, as you know quite well, so don’t make faces at me, my dear, and, above all things, don’t preach. If you preached, I might be capable of seeing him, and showing my eyelashes. Opposition always drives me hard the other way. You looked tired, dear. Were you bored? Three separate men asked me who you were. I dissembled, and said you were ‘a Miss Strangeways,’ and listened with all my ears to what they would say next. One said, ‘she is not exactly pretty, but one notices her. She has an air.’ Another said, ‘I do like to see a girl well groomed. It’s refreshing to look at her head.’ The third said, ‘that girl would be worth knowing. It’s a fine face.’”
Vanna’s smile was a somewhat laboured effort.
“You mustn’t repeat masculine compliments, Jean. They are forbidden sweets. I shall never settle down into a steady-going ‘Affliction Female’ if you dangle worldly gauds before my eyes. I’m not going to any more balls. My capacity for frivol has died a violent death, and I feel all ‘out of the picture’ in a ballroom. I must find more serious occupations for my life.”
“Vanna, what rubbish! You are only twenty-three; you have your whole long life ahead. If it’s going to be dull, that’s all the more reason why you should enjoy yourself now. I thought you would live in town, and we should do everything together. Can’t you forget the future, dear, and enjoy the hour—buying pretty things and wearing them, and music, and flowers, and dancing, and talking things over afterwards? That has always been one of the best bits—comparing notes after the fray; making fun of other people, and ourselves! Don’t fall out, Vanna, and leave me to go on alone!”
“You won’t be alone!” The words were spoken instinctively, but Vanna drew herself up with instant compunction. “You have so many other friends, Jean, and I shall fall out for the festivities only. In all other respects we shall be as much together as before. Perhaps in time to come I may be festive once more, but for the moment I’m knocked out of time, and must hide my head like the ostrich. I made myself go to the ball last night, but it was not a success. I shan’t try it again.”