Free I'll Never Marry! by Juliet Armstrong Page A

helped themselves to sticky iced cake.
    “ I ’ d no idea I was dropping in on a tea-party, ” Beryl observed, sipping her tea; exclaiming in horror, as Andrew passed her a plate of cakes: “ Heavens, no! A biscuit is all I can cope with. I outgrew schoolroom tea years ago. ”
    Maureen found her tongue then and, plainly amazed that anyone should de s pise iced cake, observed reflectively, and in all innocence: “ I suppose it would be ages and ages since you were at school. Still, some quite old people —”
    The rest of her sentence was never uttered, for at that moment Sally came padding along to welcome the visitors and to ascertain if they had been kind enough to drop any sizable crumbs. And the conversation immediately switched to her and her offspring.
    Catherine, who had noticed Beryl ’ s annoyance with Maureen—annoyance not lessened by Andrew ’ s evident amusement—decided that she disliked the girl more than ever. It would have been petty to feel irritated over the child ’ s tactlessness had she been in the thirties, instead of twenty-and-a-bit. But quite apart from that, she seemed determined to make the party fall flat.
    “ I suppose she ’ s disappointed at not having Andrew to herself, ” Catherine reflected, “ and is taking a cheap revenge by trying to make me and the children feel ill at ease. ” And from that fell to wondering whether Andrew, too, w as heartily wishing that the trio from Garsford House had chosen another day for their v isit. Certainly Beryl, for all her expression of discontent and disdain, was attractive enough to make any man welcome the opportunity of an afternoon alone with her. There was something almost Spanish in the sweep of her dark lashes, in the play of her hands, in the arrogant curve of nostril and lip; and her frock of smoky grey chiffon with touches of scarlet at the throat and waist, was so distinguished in cut and style as to make Catherine herself, in her sensible washing silk, feel a positive dowd.
    “ If Andrew really likes her, he can ’ t possibly have any use for me, ” she thought, with a slight constriction at the heart. “ We are so utterly different in every way. ” But though she observed Andrew carefully, without appearing to do anything of the kind, she could obtain no clue to his thoughts. He was placidly amiable to them all; indeed if one individual took up more of his attention than another; it was undoubtedly Sally.
    Most fervently did she wish that Cecily had been there, and Beryl miles away. Cecily, she felt sure, would have set the children at their ease at once. She would have chatted to them, and drawn them out, complimented them—as all little girls like to be complimented—on their pretty frocks, plied them with scones and cakes, so that they could have satisfied their normal childish appetites without feeling that they were being greedy. Andrew might do his best, but they were still a little shy with him; and the bored way in which Beryl, who was after all their hostess, looked and spoke, had a paralyzing effect on them. Even the sugared cakes lost their lure. They ate little and, after Maureen ’ s one hapless effort, spoke less; and Catherine knew that they were wishing heartily they were back at Garsford House, eating Matron ’ s homely rock buns, and chattering away without fear of incomprehensible frowns and reproving silence.
    She wondered—not without impatience—how it was that Andrew apparently failed to see how badly Beryl was behaving. Surely it must be evident even to the most obtuse male that the girl ’ s coldness was no negative thing, but a deliberate attempt to blight the feast.
    However that might be, it seemed to have occurred to Andrew that Beryl and his guests were not exactly comfortable together for, when, tea over, he suggested a stroll round the farm, he asked Beryl if she would mind going in and giving an eye to Cecily—adding with a quizzical glance—that in any case Paris models were