Free Night Without Stars by Winston Graham Page B

you don’t care for.”
    â€œThat can’t spoil his memory.”
    I said, suddenly angry: “ You told me the other night I didn’t understand you as well as I thought. Well, I tell you again: I don’t understand you at all. I’m crazy about you—you know that—but I don’t understand. You’ve got me completely beaten.”
    She didn’t say anything. There was no anger in her to-day. The train stopped at another station, but I didn’t know which it was and didn’t care.
    I said: “ Surely there’s someone of your own family to advise you? You’re not really one of the Delaisse family.”
    â€œI’m proud to belong to it.”
    â€œAren’t there any of your own blood alive?”
    â€œI’ve told you, I have a brother in Dakar. There is no one else. I am a Delaisse.”
    Off again, gathering speed with a deepening dynamo hum, the sound pressing back upon itself as we drilled into the mouth of a long tunnel.
    â€œYou mustn’t be crazy about me, Giles,” she said in a softer tone.
    â€œAt least you can’t stop that.”
    â€œNo.… Perhaps I don’t want to stop it. But I hate to think of hurting you.”
    â€œI’ll take care of that too.”
    â€œI am sorry I had to tell you this now. It will spoil our day.”
    â€œâ€¦ Whatever else, I’d like to finish up this business between you and Pierre.”
    â€œLet’s not talk about it any more. It is something I have—made up my mind to. You can’t alter it, dear Giles. None of us can alter the past”
    â€œWe can change our view of the past—according to circumstances. If we don’t it may push the present out of shape.”
    â€œOh, well … we shall see. Forget it now. Let’s try to be happy as we have been other days.”
    We tried to be happy. When darkness fell we were sitting on a seat in the garden of the Casino. It was the warmest evening there had been for some time, and the smell of mimosa was everywhere.
    Alix was sitting with her legs curled under her. She said: “ I don’t think to-day has been as good as the others. Let’s go home.”
    â€œSo this is really good-bye?”
    â€œâ€¦ It must be.”
    After a bit she said: “ What shall you do?”
    â€œI may have to go back to England, anyhow.”
    â€œâ€¦ Perhaps that will be for the best”
    â€œLike hell it will be for the best.”
    â€œGo back home and forget me.”
    â€œShould I swim the Channel on the way?”
    â€œI know. I know. It won’t be easy. Perhaps you are not the only one.”
    â€˜I’m the only one without the remedy in my own hands.”
    There was silence for a bit “When shall you go home?” she said.
    â€œPretty soon.”
    â€œAnd some day you might come back?”
    â€œUnlikely. A burnt child, you know.”
    She touched my arm. “I don’t know if I’ve done more harm or good by interfering in your life. If it’s harm, then I’m sorry.”
    I put my hand over hers. “What’s a broken heart among friends?”
    â€œNo, I don’t want you to joke. Tell me.”
    â€œI don’t feel like joking. Believe me. All I can tell you is that I don’t want it to end like this.”
    She said after a minute: “Let’s go and eat.” But she made no move.
    I said: “Oh, of course it’s been worth it. Every time. You owe me nothing, my dear. It was good while it lasted.”
    â€œâ€¦ More than good.”
    â€œAnd more than friendship.”
    Her hand was half clenched, and I slowly unbent the fingers and kissed the palm.
    She said: “How would you expect it to be easier ended if it ended any other way?”
    There was a sudden silence. “ I don’t want it easier ended.”
    â€œThen ended … No, Giles: it wouldn’t … make sense.”
    â€œNothing