Free Lonesome Road by Patricia Wentworth

emerald and sapphire chain would suit her.”
    “But I didn’t say she was fair, Miss Treherne.”
    “I thought you did. You quoted the song about silver threads among the gold.”
    “That was a figure of speech. I certainly shouldn’t call her fair—except in the romantic sense—and I can’t see that there is one of these jewels that wouldn’t be mighty becoming to her. But I really would appreciate it if you would tell me which one appeals to you, Miss Treherne. You see, it’s the woman’s point of view I’d like to get.”
    She found herself laughing a little scornfully.
    “Do you really think all women are alike?”
    He laughed too.
    “It would certainly be dull if they were. But I would really like to know which of these pretty things you do like the best. I’m interested in your point of view. And then I’d like to know whether you like the one that I like, and when we’ve settled that we’ll ask Mr. Enderby which is the one he’d save if his shop was burning.”
    Thomas Enderby’s hand went out a little way and drew back.
    An irrational gust of gaiety blew into Rachel’s mind. She put out her own hand and touched the oak spray with its pearl acorns.
    “Oh, that’s my one. I lost my heart to it at once. But I don’t believe Mr. Enderby can bear to let it go. He’s lost his heart to it too.”
    “And I’ve lost mine,” said Gale Brandon—“so there are three of us. Well, Mr. Enderby—what about it? Will you let me have it—for the loveliest and kindest lady in the world?”
    “It’s not everyone I’d let it go to,” said Thomas Enderby.
    Chapter Thirteen
    Rachel got back to find that she had missed Mrs. Barber by a comfortable margin. Ella, meeting her in the hall, remarked on how unfortunate this was.
    “Away yesterday, out today. I only hope, Rachel, that she won’t think you want to avoid her. Of course quite ridiculous, because she is such an exceptionally interesting and charming person, and I know she particularly wanted to talk to you about slum clearance.”
    Cosmo Frith, emerging from the study, demanded why any human being should imagine that any other human being should want to talk about slums. He slipped his arm through Rachel’s and kissed her on the cheek.
    “Well, my dear, I needn’t ask how you are. You look fine. And who was the cavalier? Wouldn’t he stay to lunch—or didn’t you ask him? I thought he looked pretty well pleased with himself as he drove away.”
    Rachel laughed. Her color was bright.
    “Oh, I asked him, but he had to get back. It was Mr. Brandon, the American who has taken the Halketts’ house for the winter. I thought you had met.”
    “No. Fancies himself, doesn’t he?”
    Rachel laughed again.
    “I think he fancies everything, and that includes himself. I’ve never met anyone who enjoys things so much. We’ve been shopping Christmas presents.”
    Cosmo looked exactly like a child who hears another child praised. He was a handsome man of forty-five. His gray hair set off a fresh complexion and a pair of fine dark eyes with well marked brows. His waist measurement was rather larger than it had been a year or two ago, and there were moments when he feared a double chin. He withdrew his arm and said with a lift of the eyebrows,
    “Christmas presents—in November? What a nauseating idea!”
    “And why nauseating?” inquired Ella Comperton. “I think this modern fashion of laughing at Christmas is a terrible sign of the times. My dear mother always used to say, ‘Ah, it isn’t the gift—it’s the loving preparation that counts,’ and we used to be set down to our Christmas presents as soon as the summer holidays were over.”
    “Horrible!” said Cosmo. “But I suppose that the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children hadn’t been invented then.” He turned to Rachel. “And what were you and Mr. Brandon lovingly preparing?”
    “Chocolates, and toys, and gloves, and handbags and stockings for a lot of young people.