None of these truths made themselves apparent to Noel. He beheld, as he was meant to behold, a vivid vital creature living in unsuitable surroundings, a humming bird in a rusty cage, a gardenia in a miry bog, a Mariana of the Moated Grange. Eugenia faded into unreality, Miss Smith and Miss Jones might never have been born for all he cared. Jasper could now retire into his proper place as a penniless sycophant, Noel had at last gone one better than him, and found by his own unaided efforts a pearl among women.
They talked and talked over the cowslip wine and Noel began to realize that his pearl was as cultivated as she was beautiful. She was a student of obscure Restoration poetry and early French ballads, so she told him, knew Proust by heart (expressing a pained surprise when he owned that he had only read Swann’s Way, and that in English), also D. H. Lawrence, Strindberg, Ibsen, which last two she preferred to read in French.
In painting, her taste, it appeared, was catholic. Primitives, Dutch and Italian Renaissance, the English School, French impressionists, Surréalistes, all was grist that came to her mill; in music her exquisite sensibilities were apparent. She only cared for Bach, Brahms, and Beethoven. Wagner was to her a mere ugly noise, Chopin a sentimental tinkle. She told him that she was born out of her proper time, she could only have been contented in the eighteenth century – this boisterous age, these machine-made nineteen-thirties said nothing to her, she found herself bored, bewildered, and unhappy.
Noel was enchanted. Never before, he thought, had he met a beautiful woman who was at the same time a natural aesthete. He drank a great quantity of cowslip wine and went back to the Jolly Roger, feeling rather sick, but apart from that, tremendously elated.
He joined Jasper in the dining-room. Dinner, Mr Birk told him reproachfully, had been ready for some time. Jasper handed him a note which had just arrived from Eugenia, it was addressed to Union Jackshirt Aspect and Union Jackshirt Foster.
Hail! The filthy old female Pacifist my grandmother has shut me up in my room because I was seen talking to you. She misuses me and tramples upon me as for many years France has misused and trampled upon Germany. It does not signify. Germany has now arisen and I shall soon arise and my day shall dawn blood red. Terrible must be the fate of the enemies of Social Unionism, so let the poor old female beware. I will meet you both tomorrow outside the twopenny-bar shop at four o’clock exactly.
Yours in
Social Unionism,
EUGENIA MALMAINS.
This document was adorned with a Swastika, Union Jack, and Skull and Cross bones, all carefully drawn in black ink.
‘She’s a fine girl,’ said Jasper, with his mouth full. ‘I hope to marry her yet. Tell you what, Noel old boy, I’m in love.’
Noel was profoundly irritated by this statement, which took all the wind out of his own sails.
‘So am I,’ he said.
‘Good egg,’ said Jasper. They both went on eating in silence for a bit.
‘My Miss Smith,’ said Jasper, ‘is a dangerous good armful. She wriggles in an exceedingly delicious way when you kiss her. I’m fearfully in love.’
Noel thought that there was no point in mentioning that he had not so far kissed his beloved. He wondered now why on earth this was, and supposed that the girl, while perfect in other ways, must be lacking in initiative. ‘My girl is called Anne-Marie,’ he said, ‘Anne-Marie Lace, she is wonderful.’
‘How did you pick her up?’ asked Jasper with interest.
‘We met,’ said Noel haughtily, ‘on the village green; she was looking for her children.’
‘And does she wriggle when you kiss her?’
‘Not exactly. She is a most fascinating creature, a natural highbrow. We had a long discussion on art and literature.’
‘Sounds a cracking old bore,’ said Jasper, ‘if there’s one thing I can’t abide it is culture in women. Miss Smith reads the Strand Magazine and hates foreigners. That’s all I found out about her intellect, but there’s nothing I can’t tell you about her physiological reactions. Darling Miss Smith, I love her like hell, Oh, gee – do I love Miss Smith.’
Noel felt jealous. It began to look as though Jasper loved Miss Smith more than he, Noel, loved Mrs Lace. This was extremely boring for Noel, and he wished more than ever that Jasper was back in London.
‘You wait until you see Anne-Marie,’ he said crossly. ‘I should think she’ll make that Miss Smith of yours look like a – like a – well, like a twopenny bar.’
‘That’s right,’ said Jasper, ‘Miss Smith looks to me like a twopenny bar looks to Eugenia, and I’m sure you can’t say fairer than that.’
‘What strikes one most particularly about Anne-Marie is her wonderfully original appearance. Her beauty is something different from what we are used to. I suppose it is that she belongs to her environment so exquisitely, she borrows nothing from your smart London women.’
‘Yes, I see, a great hulking dairy-maid with apple cheeks. Not my type at all, I’m bound to say.’
‘Oh! far from that,’ said Noel, with a superior smile, ‘if anything you would call her exotic. Very pale and delicate looking, with a rare quality that hardly seems to belong to our generation. A Dame aux Camélias, if you like.’
‘Tubercular is she?’ said Jasper. ‘You be careful, old boy.’
5
Next day the mystery of Miss Jones’s strawberry leaves was solved. Jasper brought the morning papers into Noel’s bedroom just before luncheon-time and showed him with glee the large photographs of Miss Jones which appeared in of all them under such headings as ‘It should have been her Wedding day’, ‘Orangeade instead of Orange Blossom’ or ‘Earl’s fatherless daughter’s misfortune’. The captions underneath announced, with hysteria, or with
