“Doesn’t it smell rather?”
“I don’t see it matters.”
“Don’t want to smell.”
“Whisky smells.”
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s nice drinking with you, Basil.”
“Of course it’s nice. I think it’s pretty mean of you to drink without me as you’ve been doing.”
“I’m not mean.”
“You usen’t to be. But you have been lately, haven’t you? Drinking by yourself.”
“Yes, that was mean.”
“Now listen, next time you want to go on a bat, let me know. Just ring ‘me up and I’ll come round. Then we can drink together.”
“But I want to so often, Basil.”
“Well, I’ll come round often. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“That’s the girl.”
The rum was a failure, but in general the new arrangement worked well. Angela drank a good deal less and Basil a good deal more than they had done for the last few weeks and both were happier as a result.
Margot tackled Basil on the matter. “What’s the matter with her?” she asked.
“She doesn’t like the war.”
“Well, no one does.”
“Don’t they? I can’t think why not. Anyway why shouldn’t the girl have a drink?”
“You don’t think we ought to get her into a home?”
“Good God no.”
“But she sees nobody.”
“She sees me.”
“Yes, but…”
“Honestly, Margot, Angela’s fine. A little break like this is what she’s been needing all these years. I’ll make her come to the wedding if you like and you can see for yourself.”
So Angela came to the wedding. She and Basil did not make the church but they came to the little party at Lady Granchester’s house afterwards, and stole the scene. Molly had had her moment of prominence; she had had her double line of troopers and her arch of cavalry sabres; she had had her veil of old lace. In spite of the war it was a pretty wedding. But at her mother’s house all eyes were on Mrs. Lyne. Even Lady Anchorage and the Duchess of Stayle could not dissemble their interest.
“My dear, there she is.”
There she was, incomparably dressed, standing by Basil, talking gravely to Sonia; she wore dark glasses; otherwise there was nothing unusual about her. A footman brought a tray of champagne. “Is there such a thing as a cup of tea?” she said. “Without cream or sugar.”
Molly and Peter stood at one end of the long drawing-room, Angela at the other. As the guests filed past the bride and bridegroom and came into the straight, you could see them come to the alert at the sight of Angela and draw one another’s attention to her. Her own coterie formed round her and she talked like a highly intelligent man. When the last of the guests had shaken hands with them ? they were comparatively few ?Molly and Peter joined the group at the far end.
“Molly, you are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” said Angela. “I’m afraid I was a bore the other night.”
A silly girl would have been embarrassed and said, “No, not at all.” Molly said, “Not a bore. You were rather odd.”
“Yes,” said Angela. ” ‘Odd’ is the word. I’m not always like that, you know.”
“May Peter and I come and see you again? He’s only got a week, you know, and then we shall be in London.”
“That’s an unusually good girl Peter’s picked for himself,” said Angela to Basil when they were alone after the party at her flat. “You ought to marry someone like that.”
“I could never marry anyone, except, I suppose, you.”
“No, I don’t believe you could, Basil.”
When their glasses were filled she said, “I seem to be getting to the age when I enjoy weddings. I liked that girl this afternoon. D’you know who was here this morning? Cedric.”
“How very odd.”
“It was rather touching really. He came to say good-bye. He’s off tomorrow. He couldn’t say where, but I guess it’s Norway. I never thought of him as a soldier, somehow, but he used to be one till he married me ? a very bad one I believe. Poor Cedric, he’s had a raw deal.”
“He’s not done so badly. He’s enjoyed himself messing about with grottoes. And he’s had Nigel.”
“He brought Nigel this morning. They gave him a day away from school to say good-bye. You never knew Cedric
