Free The Nutmeg Tree by Margery Sharp Page B

address?”
    â€œNo!” said Susan. “Of course he didn’t. But we were talking about France, and the various parts, and I mentioned Muzin. And then a week later—he turned up here.”
    Julia looked at her daughter with interest. The ice had thawed: Susan was in a positive glow. “How pretty she is!” thought Julia; and it seemed wonderful to her that so slight a cause should have produced so great an effect. But no doubt to a young girl like Susan the adventure had been both romantic and remarkable in the extreme—enough to make her fall in love with anybody. And the young man was attractive as well. That sort was, mused Julia unkindly.
    Aloud she said, “He’s been here nearly five weeks, then? Hasn’t he anything to do?”
    â€œHe’s a barrister,” said Susan quickly. “They can take long holidays. And this is a special one, before he really settles down to work. It’s doing him so much good!”
    â€œWhere is he staying?”
    â€œAt the lodge. At least, it isn’t really our lodge, it’s let out, with the vine. But Grandmother arranged it.”
    â€œYour grandmother?” said Julia, startled. “I suppose she wanted to know all about him?”
    Susan glowed again.
    â€œThat’s the wonderful part. She did know. Bryan’s father—Sir James—used to know Grandfather. He actually came to Barton once. It’s years and years ago, almost before the War; but Grandmother remembers him perfectly.”
    Julia opened her mouth and shut it again. Oddly enough, she remembered Sir James too.
    4
    Her recollection of him was very clear indeed. Without even closing her eyes she could see a dressing-room at the Frivolity—the cramped, old-fashioned sort, rather dirty—six girls in various stages of pleasing disarray, and on the one sofa a large recumbent figure. The figure was that of Sir James. The six girls were discussing whether to get someone to chuck him out, or to let him sleep it off. Julia, always kind-hearted, had been for the second course: she had rashly guaranteed that if they left him there during the last part of the show he would be able at the end of it to leave under his own power. And then over the senseless form an argument arose: Julia, said one of the girls, was notoriously maternal; but where would they all be if his wallet was missing? Whereupon Julia, with a fortunate blow, laid the girl out upon Sir James’s chest. An animated scene indeed! … And so different from the one immediately before her eyes that Julia felt a momentary doubt of her own identity. Could she really have taken part in that rowdy passage? And yet if she tried she could still feel, pressing against her ears, the cardboard bananas of her vegetable headdress. The girls had been—for some long-forgotten theatrical reason—the dessert: her opponent wore grapes, piled high in a basket, and very fragile.…
    The curious thing was that Sir James never woke. He simply put up an arm and drew his unexpected bedmate into a more comfortable position. He also (still in his sleep) addressed her as “Wendy”: and since this happened to be the name of the leading lady, recrimination soon gave way to happy conjecture. They were twenty seconds late for their call, and got no end of a blowing-up about it.…
    It will thus be seen that Julia had every reason for changing her mind and shutting her mouth. She had also a good deal to think about. If there was anything in heredity, it seemed to her, considerable light was thrown upon the young Bryan’s conduct—and a light in which that conduct assumed other and less fair hues than those distinguished by Susan. All that family, thought Julia—perhaps unfairly—were born pursuers. If Bryan had met Susan in a country drawing-room, and been invited to call afterwards, he would probably have lost all interest; but to meet her in a train, to see her vanish into