Free Short Stories by W. Somerset Maugham Page B

place in him. He had an instinct that it behoved him to walk warily, and he made up his mind not to broach the real purport of his visit till he saw his way more clearly. He began to talk of one thing and another, of his journey and what he had achieved by it, of politics in Chicago, of this common friend and that, of their days together at college.
    At last Edward said he must get back to his work and proposed that he should fetch Bateman at five so that they could drive out together to Arnold Jackson's house.
    'By the way, I rather thought you'd be living at this hotel,' said Bateman, as he strolled out of the garden with Edward. 'I understand it's the only decent one here.'
    'Not I,' laughed Edward. 'It's a deal too grand for me. I rent a room just outside the town. It's cheap and clean.'
    'If I remember right those weren't the points that seemed most important to you when you lived in Chicago.'
    'Chicago!'
    'I don't know what you mean by that, Edward. It's the greatest city in the world.'
    'I know,' said Edward.
    Bateman glanced at him quickly, but his face was inscrutable.
    'When are you coming back to it?'
    'I often wonder,' smiled Edward.
    This answer, and the manner of it, staggered Bateman, but before he could ask for an explanation Edward waved to a half-caste who was driving a passing motor.
    'Give us a ride down, Charlie,' he said.
    He nodded to Bateman, and ran after the machine that had pulled up a few yards in front. Bateman was left to piece together a mass of perplexing impressions.
    Edward called for him in a rickety trap drawn by an old mare, and they drove along a road that ran by the sea. On each side of it were plantations, coconut and vanilla; and now and then they saw a great mango, its fruit yellow and red and purple among the massy green of the leaves, now and then they had a glimpse of the lagoon, smooth and blue, with here and there a tiny islet graceful with tall palms. Arnold Jackson's house stood on a little hill and only a path led to it, so they unharnessed the mare and tied her to a tree, leaving the trap by the side of the road. To Bateman it seemed a happy-go-lucky way of doing things. But when they went up to the house they were met by a tall, handsome native woman, no longer young, with whom Edward cordially shook hands. He introduced Bateman to her.
    'This is my friend Mr Hunter. We're going to dine with you, Lavina.'
    'All right,' she said, with a quick smile. 'Arnold ain't back yet.'
    'We'll go down and bathe. Let us have a couple of pareos.'
    The woman nodded and went into the house.
    'Who is that?' asked Bateman.
    'Oh, that's Lavina. She's Arnold's wife.'
    Bateman tightened his lips, but said nothing. In a moment the woman returned with a bundle, which she gave to Edward; and the two men, scrambling down a steep path, made their way to a grove of coconut trees on the beach. They undressed and Edward showed his friend how to make the strip of red trade cotton which is called a pareo into a very neat pair of bathing-drawers. Soon they were splashing in the warm, shallow water. Edward was in great spirits. He laughed and shouted and sang. He might have been fifteen. Bateman had never seen him so gay, and afterwards when they lay on the beach, smoking cigarettes, in the limpid air, there was such an irresistible light-heartedness in him that Bateman was taken aback.
    'You seem to find life mighty pleasant,' said he.
    'I do.'
    They heard a soft movement and looking round saw that Arnold Jackson was coming towards them.
    'I thought I'd come down and fetch you two boys back,' he said. 'Did you enjoy your bathe, Mr Hunter?'
    'Very much,' said Bateman.
    Arnold Jackson, no longer in spruce ducks, wore nothing but a pareo round his loins and walked barefoot. His body was deeply browned by the sun. With his long, curling white hair and his ascetic face he made a fantastic figure in the native dress, but he bore himself without a trace of self-consciousness.
    'If you're ready we'll go right up,'