Free The Case Of William Smith by Patricia Wentworth

that. I know that I could never forget you, because all the feelings I have are mixed up with loving you, and as long as I felt anything at all I should have those feelings. It would not be a case of remembering or not remembering, it would just be knowing that I loved you. I have thought about this a lot, and I feel quite sure that I never have loved anyone but you. I hope I have put this quite fairly.
    ‘I am not in a very good position as regards money, but I think the prospects are good. I am sure that the animals will bring in a steady income as soon as we can get them manufactured under licence and on the market in sufficient quantities. In a year’s time I ought to be very much better off. Through Mr. Tattlecombe’s kindness in allowing me to board with him I live very cheaply, and I have been able to save two hundred and fifty pounds. I would look after you and work for you, and I will always love you. I do not know whether you will have had any idea that I have been thinking of you in this way. It was love at first sight. As soon as I saw you I knew there wasn’t anyone else and never could be. You were everything in the world. I love you very much.
    William Smith.’
    This letter he put into Katharine’s hand as she was leaving at the end of the day. She did not read it until she got home,
    but every now and then she put her hand into her bag and felt it to make sure that it was there. It was a thick letter. There was only one explanation of a letter like that, put into her hand without a word as she turned to go. You don’t read that sort of letter in the street or on a bus.
    She came into her dark flat, put on the light, set a match to the gas fire, and took off her coat and hat. Then she sat down on the hearth-rug and read William’s letter. It might have touched any woman’s heart. It took Katharine’s heart and wrung it. Everything she knew about William was there — his simplicity, his honesty, his directness, and the way he loved her. She read the letter a great many times, and cried over it with the sort of tears which leave the eyes bright and the cheeks glowing. What seemed like quite a long time went by. Then the telephone bell rang. Katharine jumped up with her heart beating and her breath coming quickly. It couldn’t possibly be William — it couldn’t possibly—
    But it was. She said, ‘Hullo!’ and heard him say, ‘Is that you?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Have you read my letter?’
    ‘Yes, William.’
    ‘I’m not asking you to answer it, or anything like that. You might want to think about it quite a lot — I don’t want to hurry you. I just thought I’d say you mustn’t think I’d make it difficult for you if you felt you had to say no — I mean I wouldn’t bother you.’
    ‘Thank you, William — ’ Her voice gave out.
    She heard him say, ‘That’s all. I’m ringing up from a call-box,’ and all of a sudden she couldn’t let him go. She said,
    ‘Wait!’
    William waited. He heard her catch her breath.
    ‘William — ’
    ‘Katharine — ’
    ‘William — would you like to come round and have supper with me?’
    He arrived in the tin kettle. When Katharine heard it she went out into the passage and stood ready to let him in. She had put on the blue dress. The moment she heard his step she opened the door. He came in with the cold night air and the smell of frost. The door shut behind him and she was in his arms.
    Chapter Eight
    On the Wednesday morning about half an hour before Admiral Holden arrived, Miss Jones was bracing her employer for the interview. Properly speaking, she was no longer Miss Jones, having become Mrs. Cyril Eversley at a register office on the previous Saturday. The fact gave her an added touch of assurance.
    ‘Now there’s really nothing to be nervous about. It’s all fixed. If he gets at all awkward, you’ll put the whole thing on Mr. Davies. You’ve only got to say he’d been failing for some time but you didn’t like to supersede him