‘I’ve been to take some nourishment to the Athelstan prisoner,’ she said. ‘It’s cold across the grounds. The wind’s changed. It’s in the east. Put your coat on, and tie something over your hair.’
‘The Athelstan prisoner? What
‘Nothing. I’m merely babbling. Come on! What a time you take!’
It was dark, as well as cold, across the grounds, and seemed a good step from the College to Columba. There was a light, however, in the window of Miss Topas’s sitting-room, which seemed to beckon and welcome, and Miss Topas had her latch-key and opened the front door wide.
‘Come on. Don’t stop to wipe your feet,’ she said in a voice in which Deborah recognized excitement.
Miss Topas switched on the light in the passage, shut the front door and led the way to her sitting-room. A man rose from her most comfortable arm-chair as they went in.
‘Hullo, Deborah,’ he said. ‘Aunt Adela sent for me, and told me to fetch up here.’
‘Hullo, Jonathan! Whatever you’re doing here, or think you’re doing, I don’t see why you have to explain yourself,’ Deborah said, with a laugh to hide the fact that she was blushing.
‘I’ll go and get the drinks,’ said Miss Topas, going on the instant, and closing the door behind her.
‘Sit down, Deborah. Or, rather, don’t. At least, not yet,’ said Jonathan, advancing.
Before Deborah could avoid it, he had taken her in his arms, and, with a most disconcerting amount of enterprise, swinging her slightly sideways, so that her head was firmly against his upper arm, he kissed her with an enthusiasm which caused Miss Topas, coming in with the tray of drinks, to click her tongue regretfully and to observe that her sitting-room was not a film studio. She then put down the tray, seized Deborah (who seemed uncertain whether to launch an attack upon the intrepid wooer or whether to cry) and embraced her more gently and a good deal less disturbingly than she had been embraced by the ardent young man.
This action decided Deborah. She made a dash for the door, tore out, and they could hear her running up the stairs.
‘A bit precipitate, weren’t you?’ said Miss Topas. ‘Say when.’
‘Make it a good one,’ the young man responded. ‘I’ve been obeying orders, that is all.’
‘Whose?’
‘Aunt Adela’s. She told me she wanted Deborah in the family — Oh, I say,
‘There you are, then. And did your Aunt Adela advise you on procedure?’
‘Well, no. But I’ve wanted to do that to Deborah since that week-end — you remember? — at Carey’s. Anyway, I seem to have mucked it. Do you suppose I’ve put her off for good? She wouldn’t agree to marry me when we were there, so I thought I’d try other methods.’
‘Well, you’d better not have more than one drink. Women don’t like being made love to by a stink of whisky. You drink that, and make it last, and I’ll go up and bring her down again. And you’d better be a little more gentle. Deborah’s not a Rugby football player, you know. She’s nervous and highly strung, and all those other things that you’ve probably previously connected only with racehorses and prize pumpkins.’
With this delicate admonition, she went upstairs to her bedroom. Deborah was seated in front of the dressing- table tidying her hair. Her hands were shaking.
‘Let me,’ said Miss Topas; but instead of taking the comb she took Deborah by the shoulders, held her firmly for a minute and then said: ‘Well, and do you want him?’
‘Of course I want him,’ said Deborah.
‘Come on down, then, and say so.’
‘I can’t meet him again tonight’
‘Rot. Don’t be girlish.’
‘I can’t go down there. Tell him — tell him — ’
‘Tell him yourself. Come on. Don’t be a coward.’
‘I’m not. You don’t — Look here, why did you ask him to come here tonight?’
Miss Topas laughed, and made for the door.
‘There’s nobody at home to make scandal. I’ll send him up,’ she said.
Deborah tried to detain her, failed, and, mistrustful of her sense of humour, followed. She found Jonathan alone. He was seated on the settee, staring gloomily at his whisky, which he had not touched. He put it down and stood up when she came in.
Deborah backed away, but heard the key turn in the lock behind her. Miss Topas was taking no chances of her match-making going astray.
‘Deborah,’ said Jonathan. ‘Look here, come and sit down. No, honestly, I won’t do it again. At least, I won’t do it without warning you! I’m sorry I rushed at you like that. Silly to frighten you, but my courage failed me. I say, Deborah, you will marry me, won’t you?’
‘But, it’s so silly! I hardly know you. In fact, I don’t know you at all!’
‘Yes, you do. What about that Saturday afternoon at half-term? What about the Monday? Besides, you know my aunt, and what could be more respectable than that? You like Aunt Adela, don’t you?’
‘I love her. She’s been a darling, but…’
‘Well, you could love me, too. It’s perfectly easy. My parents have managed it for years, and they’re not terribly
