Free The Eye of Love by Margery Sharp

unfortunately; Martha sensibly went on drawing. In pencil it was easier; she started all over again and drew the invisible oval first. She put Miss Diver’s incomprehensible remarks out of her head at once. Indeed, a great many of Dolores’ remarks, or ejaculations, were at this time incomprehensible to her: “King Hal!” for instance, Dolores would cry—before the bronze lady: an obvious piece of nonsensicality. Or “Big Harry!” ejaculated Miss Diver, caressing a stuffed ermine. Martha took as little notice as possible.
    She was thus unsurprised (and took equally little notice) when Miss Diver repeatedly described the situation of Mr Gibson’s establishment.
    â€œIn Kensington High Street, over a tailor’s,” explained Miss Diver. “At the corner of Kensington High Street and Almaviva Place.” (She had never been there; but could have mapped like a surveyor Mr Gibson’s daily route between home and shop.) “Kensington Gardens is where you like to go and play, isn’t it, dear? Well, the High Street is just the other side …”
    Martha said yes, and you could also take a bus.
    This was her greatest failure of all. For Miss Diver and Mr Gibson, though they had bound themselves not to communicate, hadn’t bound the child Martha, and Miss Diver couldn’t help dreaming dreams. Martha had only to run across the Gardens (or if she preferred it, go by bus), and then again who knew, who knew! “Oh, Mr Gibson, can’t I just take Dolores a message?” Miss Diver imagined Martha pleading. “ I know it would make her so happy! ” Though Martha had quite egregiously failed to twine herself about his heart, a child’s pleading who can resist? Dolores didn’t see her King Hal resisting long; and it would be neither her doing nor his, that communication was re-established …
    It was weakness on Dolores’ part, not treachery. She knew their future, divergent fates inevitable. If she hoped that perhaps Mr Gibson would follow his message in person, it was with no idea of trying to seduce him from the path of duty—just to see him once again, in the sitting-room, without exchanging a caress, or even a word, would have comforted her. Miss Joyce might still have been right to take alarm, as she undoubtedly would have done, had she heard Mr Gibson’s address so perpetually drummed in Martha’s ears. It was an oddity of the situation that Miranda now recognised Mr Gibson’s passionate nature better than Dolores did; and wouldn’t have trusted him in Alcock Road a moment.
    Again the point remained academic, because as far as Martha was concerned Mr Gibson’s shop might have been on the moon. She had no idea why Dolores (recapitulating familiar topography) bent such pressing looks on her. And after not very long Dolores herself lost heart. Something peculiarly stolid and self-contained about Martha—as she squared her elbows on the kitchen-table to draw a saucepan, or a casserole, or a mustard-spoon soaking in an egg-cup—caused Miss Diver to lose heart.
    2
    â€œIf a kiddie comes wanting to see me,” Mr Gibson instructed Miss Molyneux, “send her up. She’ll be from Jaspé’s.”
    To his surprise, Miss Molyneux at once looked intelligent.
    â€œWe’ve heard that too, Mr Gibson—how Jaspé’s have been buying at auction. Miss Harris thinks there’ll be some very nice bargains going indeed, and I’m sure I agree—for they certainly haven’t anyone like her , to re-model! Not that I can think it right, however hard-pressed, sending a child with a great heavy box.”
    â€œShe won’t have a box,” said Mr Gibson.
    â€œAnyway, I’ll give her a choc,” said kind Miss Molyneux.
    Thus a warm welcome awaited Martha in Kensington. Miss Molyneux would have bustled her up to the office and fed her chocolates when she came down. Mr Gibson would have