Free Nothing So Strange by James Hilton Page B

you into a secret.”
    We got out at Jack Straw’s Castle, then took to the open Heath. “Well?” I
asked.
    “I’m not going away.”
    I had a curious instant of relief that surprised me more than he had; then
I was shocked.
    “You mean you’re not leaving for Vienna tonight?”
    “I’m not leaving for Vienna … at all.”
    I asked if that meant that the whole arrangement with Framm was
canceled.
    “Yes … or will be when he gets to hear of it.”
    “You haven’t told him yet?”
    “I called him at his hotel and they said he wasn’t to be disturbed until
noon. The prima donna.”
    “You don’t like him?”
    “Oh yes—he’s great. A genius, if ever there was one.”
    “But you were packing?”
    “Yes … until I changed my mind.”
    “When was that?”
    “I didn’t look at the clock.”
    “You just suddenly changed your mind?”
    “I’d been thinking it over most of the night. I didn’t sleep.”
    “Oh, Brad, I’m so sorry.”
    “Sorry that I’m not going? That doesn’t sound as if I were very
popular.”
    “You know I don’t mean that…. I’m just sorry you’ve had all this worry.
You must have been worried if it kept you awake all night.”
    “And you’re also sorry I’ve decided to stay here … aren’t you?”
    “Brad, it’s no good asking me for an opinion till I know what made you
change your mind. Maybe you have a perfectly good reason.”
    “And what if I haven’t? Supposing I just don’t want to go? Dammit, I’ve a
right to please myself, haven’t I?”
    “Of course.”
    “And to change my mind as many times as I like?”
    “Of course.”
    We walked some way without speaking; then I said: “You should know best.
Whatever the reason is, I hope you’re right. My father will be disappointed,
but that doesn’t matter.”
    “It does, though. He’s been very kind to me. You’ve all been kind.” I
caught the tremor in his voice and thought how foolish it would be if we both
broke down and wept in the middle of Hampstead Heath for no reason that
either of us would mention.
    “Oh, don’t keep on saying that, Brad. My father often helps promising
young men—he gets a kick out of it. I don’t mean he doesn’t genuinely
like you, but I wouldn’t want you to feel so terribly grateful … he enjoys
it, just as he enjoyed it while Julian was baiting you the other night.”
    “Baiting me?… Julian …?”
    “That argument you had—about science and civilization, all that.
Julian was trying to break down something you believed in.”
    “That’s what your mother seemed to think.”
    “Of course a good deal of what he said may be true. It doesn’t pay to be
too idealistic. You said just now you weren’t as austere as some people
imagined, and that’s a good thing—you used to be too austere.
But you needn’t go to the other extreme.”
    “Have you any idea what you’re talking about?”
    “I think I have. Only you don’t help me to understand you. Perhaps you
don’t want me to.”
    “It isn’t that. I’m not sure that I properly understand myself.” We walked
a few hundred yards, then he took my arm (the first time he had ever done
so); he said quietly: “Let’s chuck the argument. Do you mind? I told you the
secret—nobody knows yet that I’m not going … till I can wake the
professor. I don’t think it’ll bother him much, that’s one thing.”
    “The real secret is why you changed your mind.”
    “You’re a persistent child.”
    “I’m not a child at all, but that would make another argument.”
    “Yes, let’s not have one. Not even a small one, from now on. Change the
subject—talk of something else—anything else…. It is beautiful here, as you said. I didn’t somehow expect this sort of weather.
Everyone in Dakota knows about London fogs, but this bright cold air…. Look
at those boys— they’re optimists—they’ve brought sleds … or
sledges, isn’t it?”
    “Sledges over here. Sleds in