“She’s got a look of Mrs. Cedric Lyne,” said Molly.
“Why,” said Peter, “it is Angela. What on earth’s the matter with her?”
She had now bought her ticket and moved away from the window, trying to read what was on it in the half light and saying peevishly, “I told them it was too far away. I can’t see if I’m far away. I said three and sixpence.”
She held the ticket close up to her eyes, trying to read it; she did not notice the step, stumbled and sat down. Peter hurried forward.
“Angela, are you all right? Have you hurt yourself?”
“Perfectly all right,” said Angela, sitting quietly in the twilight. “Not hurt at all thank you.”
“Well, for God’s sake get up.”
Angela squinnied up at him from the step.
“Peter,” she said. “I didn’t recognize you. Too far away to recognize anyone in the five and ninepennies. How are you?”
“Angela, do get up.”
He held out his hand to help her up. She shook it cordially. “How’s Margot?” she said affably. “Haven’t seen her lately. I’ve been so busy. Well that’s not quite true. As a matter of fact I’ve not been altogether well.”
A crowd was beginning to assemble in the twilight. From the darkness beyond came the voice of the commissionaire, policemanlike, saying, “What’s going on here?”
“Pick her up, you coot,” said Molly Meadowes.
Peter got behind Angela, put his arms round her and picked her up. She was not heavy.
“Ups-a-daisy,” said Angela, making to sit down again.
Peter held her firm; he was glad of the darkness; this was no position for an officer of the Household Cavalry in uniform.
“A lady has fainted,” said Molly in a clear, authoritative voice. “Please don’t crowd round her,” and to the commissionaire, “Call a cab.”
Angela was silent in the taxi.
“I say,” said Peter, “I can’t apologize enough for letting you in for this.”
“My dear man,” said Molly, “don’t be ridiculous. I’m thoroughly enjoying it.”
“I can’t think what’s the matter with her,” he said.
“Can’t you?”
When they reached Grosvenor Square, Angela got out of the taxi and looked about her, puzzled. “I thought we were going to the cinema,” she said. “Wasn’t it good?”
“It was full.”
“I remember,” said Angela, nodding vigorously. “Five and nines.” Then she sat down again on the pavement.
“Look here,” said Peter to Lady Mary Meadowes. “You take the taxi back to the cinema. Leave my ticket at the box-office. I’ll join you in half an hour. I think I’d better see Angela home and get hold of a doctor.”
“Bumbles,” said Molly. “I’m coming up too.”
Outside her door Angela suddenly rallied, found her key, opened the flat and walked steadily in. Grainger was still up.
“You need not have stayed in,” said Angela. “I told you I shouldn’t want you.”
“I was worried. You shouldn’t have gone out like that,” and then seeing Peter, “Oh, good evening, my lord.”
Angela turned and saw Peter, as though for the first time. “Hullo, Peter,” she said. “Come in.” She fixed Molly with eyes that seemed to focus with difficulty. “You know,” she said, “I’m sure I know you quite well, but I can’t remember your name.”
“Molly Meadowes” said Peter. “We just came to see you home. We must be going along now. Grainger, Mrs. Lyne isn’t at all well. I think you ought to get her doctor.”
“Molly Meadowes. My dear, I used to stay at Granchester when you were in the nursery. How old that sounds. You’re very pretty, Molly, and you’re wearing a lovely dress. Come in, both of you.”
Peter frowned at Molly, but she went into the flat.
“Help yourself to something to drink, Peter,” said Angela. She sat down in her armchair by the radio. “My dear,” she said to Molly. “I don’t think you’ve seen my flat. I had it done up by David Lennox just before the war. David Lennox. People say unkind things about David Lennox… Well, you can’t blame them…” Her mind was becoming confused again. She made a resolute attempt to regain control of herself. “That’s a portrait of me by John. Ten years ago; nearly done when I was married. Those are my books…my dear, I’m afraid I’m rather distraite this evening. You must forgive me,” and, so saying, she fell into a heavy sleep.
Peter looked about him helplessly. Molly said to Grainger, “Had we better get her to bed?”
“When she wakes up. I shall be here. I can manage.”
“Sure?”
“Quite sure.”
