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Show CHATTER VIII Continued 10 Quentin looked at her absently, moved his gaze to Victoria. "Any chance of your going down to Del Monte with me this afternoon?" after-noon?" "Oh, darling, not on Sunday! Mol-lie Mol-lie off, and Nurse with all of them to handle, and the Carters coming to supper! They're bringing all the children I thought that since you wouldn't be here it would be a grand chance for a children's supper." sup-per." "H'm!" Quentin said noncommit-tally. noncommit-tally. Victoria, made vaguely uneasy un-easy by his tone, sent him another questioning glance. Quentin wasn't quite like himself on this hot still Sunday. "The other doctors are going. Quent? You're to have your golf in the morning?" "I don't know," he said irresolutely. irreso-lutely. "I thought I might telephone tele-phone Johnny. We might have our golf right here. You'll get over there and see her, won't you. Vic?" "Get ?" She was completely at sea, untying Susan's bib, as Susan bi'nted into her. "Take your cooky and run, darling," she said to the child, "and don't wake Baby she's out on the side porch!" "Get over and see the Morrisons," Quentin completed it. "Oh? Oh, yes!" Somehow somewhere, something was wrong. Through the familiar scene a chill faint wind seemed to blow; a faint apprehension of trouble trou-ble of change. Vicky couldn't analyze an-alyze it, was only vaguely conscious con-scious that she felt it, but it was there. "I'll walk over to the Morrisons' this afternoon for a few minutes, if you like, Quentin," she said, on an impulse, after luncheon. Quentin was stuffing his pipe; lie did not look up. In their more than seven years of marriage he had never made a call that Vicky could remember. Now, sauntering forth into the garden in search of dogs, children, his favorite chair under the oaks on the long terrace, he spoke carelessly over his shoulder. "Oh, don't you bother," he said, "you've got enough to do! I'll wander wan-der over there, later, and afterward I can give you some idea what sort of an outfit it is." "You'd be a darling to do that!" Victoria said. But oddly she did not feel happy about it, and it was from that Sunday that she dated the change in Quentin. Not understanding under-standing why, she nevertheless was conscious of the fact that life somehow some-how didn't go back, after that Sunday, Sun-day, to what it had been before. Just two weeks after the day when Vicky and Quentin had first met their lovely neighbor, her eyes were suddenly opened, and after that Victoria understood. Quentin had said that he thought he would go over to the club, might play another eighteen if it got cooler, cool-er, might watch the polo. Vicky saw him off, had a cloud-clearing talk with Mollie, who since her marine ma-rine was in port was given the rest of the afternoon and the evening as a special concession; helped Nurse to the extent of opening all the little beds, laying out night apparel, putting put-ting away various books and toys in the nursery. Finally they were all in bed, with books, and Victoria's head and hair jerked into a hundred agonizing directions di-rections by warm good-night kisses and embraces. Five minutes past seven, and supper due within the hour oh, dear, not much room for rest in there! Her chiffon was at the cleaner's. Perhaps that white one that she had worn this morning morn-ing . . . There was a wide upper hallway in the house, filled now with a pleasant pleas-ant half-light, like the light under water. Victoria, closing the nursery nurs-ery door behind her, lingered for a moment at its big open window, looking out at the cooling and softening soft-ening day, breathing the freshened air, resting her eyes on the greenness green-ness of the great trees. So standing, she could look down at the drying yard, and the berry vines, and the flat stretch of neglected ne-glected lawn where a cow grazed, and the gate in the evergreen hedge that divided the Hardisty property from the small but exquisitely groomed estate of the Morrisons next door. There was a small strip of lane there, and in the lane Vic saw a white figure, with the level light of the setting sun shining bright on pale gold hair and illuminating illumi-nating the white parasol as if it were a lantern lighted against the dusky shadows of the lane. Mrs. Morrison, of course. She was talking to someone, apparently; she had the air of a person talking. But her companion was quite invisible invisi-ble against the hedge; it was tall enough to hide anyone who was close to it on the other side. Victoria Vic-toria stood watching her and reflecting reflect-ing upon the inescapable power of the beauty that had been so suddenly sud-denly introduced into their compact little group. Mrs. Morrison continued talking in the lane; the revolving frills of the parasol tumbling, tumbling. Dusk was falling fast now; Anna, coming upstairs, touched the switch mat lighted the hall behind Victoria. Vic-toria. How many would there be for supper, please? Victoria turned about; considered. The Keatses had said they'd stop in on their way home with Kate, and Dr. Miller would be here. Six, please, Anna. No, seven; there'd be Gwen, Vic remembered. Anna went downstairs again, but when Victoria turned back to the window the lights in the hall had spoiled the lovely dusk, and the white frock was gone from the lane. She went Into her room after a peep at Madeleine. Quentin was tearing off his clothes. "Oh, did you just come up? I hoped you'd gotten a nap." "I went for a stroll." "A stroll?" "Y'ep, I walked a little way. It was lovely out. Feels hot in here." "It does feel hot You didn't get as far as the hospital, did you, Quent? That woman's coming on all right, isn't she?" The roar of the shower drowned any reply Quentin might have shouted shout-ed through the half -closed bathroom door; when he came out again Vic was getting into an old black lace. "It's frightful to burn your shoulders shoul-ders in just the pattern of your bathing bath-ing suit," she said. "I wonder how that woman keeps so white?" Quentin did not answer. "She was down there in the lane just now, parasol and all," Victoria pursued, now doubled over to Insert her heels one at a time into rather tight slippers. "Zat so?" Quentin asked, shaving. "Yes. I happened to be looking out of the upper hall window, she was talking to someone gardener, maybe but no, it's Sunday night Maybe it was a lover," Vic said, trying a heel, scowling, taking up the slipper to flex it vigorously. "She's having a terribly dull time, poor soul, with a sick husband and no friends here." Quentin was pulling his face about with hard fingers, testing his shave. He was non-committal. When he and she were going to bed after the bridge game, quite suddenly Quentin said: "How about asking them to dinner?" din-ner?" "Who?" "The Morrisons." "Oh? Oh, d'you suppose he'd come? He seems so cross. I can't imagine him social and agreeable." "Sure he'd come. She said today to-day he would." A second's electrical pause. Then Vicky said without volition exactly what she did not want to say, in ill mm Kite M lr&$ssis&& III lit? She Was Talking to Someone, Apparently. exactly the tone she did not want to use silly suspicious words in a wife's light suspicious tone: "Oh? I didn't know you'd seen her today?" "I met her, coming back from my walk," Quentin answered, wondering won-dering at the same instant why he hadn't said that he had seen her for a moment at the club. "In the lane?" "Yep." Vicky was jilent a moment When she spoke, it was to say amiably that she would go over to see Serena Se-rena in a day or two to arrange the dinner. But under her surface serenity she felt i little sick from tho sudden jarring awakening, sudden sud-den vague fears. Sc-o-o Unit was it, was it? It was Quentin to whom Serena had been talking in the lane. Quentin kissed her good-night a careless kiss on the top of her head went to his own sleeping porch. Almost Immediately she heard him snoring. But Vicky lay awake for nervous, restless, unreasoning unrea-soning hours. CIIATTKR IX Vicky made a point of calling upon her neighbors a day or two later, to invite them to dinner. Feeling oddly formal In her silk gown, with calling cardr in her purse and white gloves carried as a final touch, Vicky sat in the patio of the Morrison house with the ln-1ured ln-1ured man and his lovely wife, and talked somewhat stiltedly and constrainedly. con-strainedly. She and Dr. Hardisty lived very quietly, she explained: "as indeed a doctor has to do when he Is building up his practice, and has six small children!" Vicky ended, end-ed, with a little laugh. "Oh, yes, you poor thing!" Serena Se-rena said so heartily that Spencer Morrison laughed his sinister laugh, and Vicky hated her. "I didn't know whether coming to dine with us would give Mr. Morrison Mor-rison any pleasure or not" Vicky said later, when she was walking home, and Serena had volunteered to accompany her. "I beg pardon?" "I was wondering if Mr. Morrison Morri-son would think it more bother than it was worth?" "Oh, he can walk that far," Serena Se-rena said vaguely. Victoria did not pursue the subject sub-ject They were In the little lane that separated the two properties now, and suddenly she stooped and picked up a small bright object And aj she did so she felt her heart begin be-gin to beat faster, and the blood in her face. "Quentin's cigarette lighter!" she said. "He's been looking for it everywhere." ev-erywhere." "Imagine," Serena commented, undisturbed. "He probably dropped It" Vicky said, suddenly trembling, "when you and he were talking here in the lane last Sunday." Half an hour later Quentin came upstairs to find Vicky changing her gown for dinner. "I met Mrs. Morrison Lord, she Is a lovely creature!" Quentin observed, ob-served, plunging at once into his ablutions. "She'd started to walk to the village, it was too much for her, and she asked me to telephone for a taxi to pick her up. But instead in-stead I ran her downtown it seems he wanted the mail, I guess he gets his own way pretty well! and then took her home. It only took me ten minutes. She tells me " he looked out of a towel, his hair In wild wet confusion to say in satisfaction satis-faction "she tells me you called there today, Vic I'm glad. She's a lovely woman, and she'll be great company for you." Victoria, at her dressing table, continued to brush her hair. Once she looked steadily at Quentin, in the mirror, but he did not see her. "I told you they could come Thursday night?" she asked. "Y'ep. Who else are you going to have?" "Gita and Gwen and ourselves and Mother." "Quentin turned, his face coloring color-ing with amazement "Why, my dear, you can't do that!" he said quickly. "Do what?" "Why, have those people, the first time, and not make an occasion of it!" Vicky was genuinely astonished. "How d'you mean, Quentin?" "Well, I mean that they're Important Im-portant people; his father is Sir Percival Morrison. I do think that if ever if ever we're going to spread ourselves, this is the time!" "But he's an invalid, Quent!" "He ' and he isn't. He's lost an eye, of course, but he's an Englishman, English-man, and you'll find them regular sticklers for formality. Oh, no, we'll have to make it a formal affair, and Dr. Austreicher." I'd ask the Rays and the Sinclairs "I see!" Vic murmured as he paused. Her heart was lead. "Why do you say 'I see'?" Quentin Quen-tin demanded suspiciously. "Well, we haven't given that sort of an affair since before the twins were born. We've had nothing but Sunday lunches, and bridge dinners fcr just four!" "Why, but there's nothing so formidable for-midable about it Vic!" He spoke with a sort of amused impatience. It was not amusing to Vic. She understood his mood too well; his unwonted fussing over every ev-ery detail of the approaching dinner; din-ner; his strange excited spirits when the night finally came. Quentin, who usually loathed such affairs, was nervous as a young wife over the candles and flowers, and welcomed the guests with a joviality and assurance as-surance that seemed to Vicky almost al-most as bad as his usual manner of grim and polite endurance. The Morrisons came last; the man, who wore a black patch over one eye, limping a little, evidently glad to drop into the nearest chair; Serena shining in flawless beauty. Vicky herself felt tired; things had not gone any too well throughout the long rainy day, she had small heart in the affair. The earlier stages of the dinner were not a success. Just why not, Vic was unable to perceive. Serena sat next to Quentin. Vicky was miserably impressed, from her end of the table, that tfs guest of honor did nut have much to s:iv. Anyone as beautiful as thai die .lot have to have much to say; she made all the other women look plain ami badly dressed und sound cliatler-boxes. cliatler-boxes. The atmosphere seemed definitely clearer when they had gone. They went early; the bowed, carefully walking lean man with the neat black patch over one eye, and tho superbly moving woman with her fair head held high. Everyone could discuss them then, and the con- j tract fanatics could settle down to their game. Vicky and Violet and one or two of the other women turned the lights low in the drawing draw-ing room, gathered about the fire, and analyzed the Morrisons at their leisure. Quentin had said that he would walk through Die garden with the Morrisons, but the night had proved to be still blowy and rainy, and they had had to have the car for the twice two hundred yards. On the whole, wearily glad that It was over, limping upstairs in her stiff new slippers, Vicky pronounced the affair a drag, a bore, a failure. It went on and on; he never saw it; she could see nothing else. Vicky grew nervous and Irritable, wondering won-dering about it; wondering when- I rn - -I i -r-- r "Doesn't Mrs. Morrison Tlay?" Vicky Asked. ever he was out of her sight where Quentin was, wondering how often he saw Serena, and under what circumstances. cir-cumstances. "I saw Serena today," Quentin said one night when their acquaintance acquaint-ance with the Morrisons was of only a few weeks' standing. "Oh, that was nice. Did she come to the office?" "No, I took her to lunch." "Oh?" A pause. Then the inevitable inevi-table interrogation, as unwelcome to Victoria as to Quentin, but dragged from her nevertheless by a power stronger than herself. "Happen "Hap-pen to meet her?" "No-o. I spoke of it Sunday. She said that she was going to be in town." "I see." And do what she would, the pause would seem to have significance, sig-nificance, and do what she would, she could not seem to fill it with some casual pleasantry. Presently Victoria and Quentin had to dine with their neighbors. Quentin, who rarely went to dinners, din-ners, had accepted this invitation as a matter of course, without consulting con-sulting Victoria. She knew in advance ad-vance that the event would hold no pleasure for her, she felt like a rough-headed child in a home-made gown when the night came and she and Quentin walked across the side lawn and past the berry patch and the pasture field, and went through the old gate into the lane, and so on to the Morrisons for dinner. The affair af-fair was indeed informal. Only their four selves were at the table. Serena was no such housekeeper as Victoria Hardisty, but she made no apologies for a poor dinner and indifferent in-different service. The winter night was clear and cold; after dinner there was a fire intermittently replenished re-plenished by Quentin, and Victoria and Spencer Morrison played backgammon, back-gammon, and then cribbage. At first they played in the sitting room, but presently Spencer suggested sug-gested his rather untidy study, where there was an electric heater. He and Victoria went in there, and she exerted herself charitably to make the games interesting. Nine o'clock, ten o'clock -struck; Victoria was overcome with sleepiness, and she felt that she could decently suggest sug-gest going home. Her heart was not on the game; she felt nervous and distracted. Presently she rose; they really must go now; after all, she had a houseful of small children to consider, and Quentin must make an early start in the morning. Her host seemed petulant and angry an-gry that she should break up the evening, but contented himself with asking her to come over any day, any hour, to get her revenge. "Come tomorrow at about two, if you can," he urged. "Doesn't Mrs. Morrison play?" Vicky asked, with an inward smile at the idea that she could find time tomorrow, or any day, for an idle afternoon game with a neighbor. (TO BE COSTIM ED) Color of Brass Brass is an alloy, or mixtuie of copper and zinc, and its color varies according to the proportions of these metals. The more zinc it contains the paler it is. |