Free Hotel Mirador by Rosalind Brett Page B

accident?”
    “Of course, but I’m eight years older than he is, and you’d be surprised what that means between cousins. Mike just galloped through life without a care. When he made errors he laughed, and very often made them again. He was always convinced that he led a charmed life—till he found he didn’t. When he was younger I cured him of borrowing, but it took the smash to cure him of a craving for speed and admiration. He caved in.”
    Sally said nothing for a minute. She dipped her toes lower and watched them, and at last said thoughtfully, “Under the dash and bravado he was sensitive, but no one ever found it out.”
    “Mike’s not sensitive—never has been. Don’t kid yourself that because he writes he’s one of these tender, artistic souls. With him, writing was mere reporting with his own individual twist.”
    She said stubbornly, “It’s the sensitive people who feel an incapacity like his so terribly. The reason he won’t make the effort to regain the use of his leg is that he knows it will never be absolutely right, and therefore life will never be the light and airy thing it once was. There’s no other kind he wants, so he doesn’t try.”
    Dane snapped his fingers sharply. “For heaven’s sake don’t talk to Mike like that He’s quite sorry enough for himself!”
    “Of course I wouldn’t,” she said crossly. “Have I got to be careful what I say to you, too? I’m simply trying to analyze what’s wrong with him.”
    “Well, leave it alone and stick to muscles!”
    “You said you wanted me to persuade him to have treatment in a hospital.”
    “Do that, but don’t start dripping emotion all over him, or he’ll respond in a way you may not bargain for! You don’t have to restore his faith in women. He’ll do that for himself when he’s fit to resume the chase.”
    “You bully, you,” she said quietly.
    Dane was silent for a surprised second; then he laughed. “You’re an odd girl. I’ve always thought women were easy to understand, but you’ve a quirk in the usual feminine character. Maybe it comes of reaching the age of twenty - one without having wallowed in the usual calf-love affair.”
    “Who said I’d never had an affair? When I was training I was terribly gone on one of our lecturers.”
    “Really?” His tone scoffed. “Did he respond?”
    “Vaguely. We tramped the moors a few times and he took me to an art show in York.”
    “Then what happened?”
    “It fizzled out. He was talking to us on hydrotherapy one morning and a sort of mist seemed to disintegrate between him and me and I saw him plainly for the first time. I noticed that he used a technical word over and over again and often pronounced it differently ... and that he had an outsize Adam’s apple and skeleton fingers. And at the same time I realized he hadn’t a sense of humor.”
    “Is that why you’re now so emphatic that the man you marry must have one?”
    “Perhaps. As a family, we Yorkes invariably see the funny angle. When you grow up in a happy family you feel sorry for people who are too intense to laugh, but you couldn’t link up your life with them.” She paused. “I don’t suppose you know w hat I’m talking about.”
    “You’re fairly lucid, and I’d already gathered you were used to a fair amount of harmless fun. Since you’ve been here, I’ve noticed for the first time in my life that it’s rather nice to hear a woman singing at seven in the morning.”
    “Good heavens, is my voice that penetrating?”
    “It’s soft, but it carries. My balcony is not so far from yours, and we both have the doors open. Don’t mind me. I like it.”
    Though she was still cool from the swim, Sally felt heat stealing up from her neck. She thought of that other woman who sang in theatres and night clubs and wished to heaven she’d left the habit of singing while dressing at home in Cumberland.
    She got back quickly to the subject of Mike Ritchie. “Your cousin swims, I