“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. “You’re a black sheep, but perhaps Mrs. Spenser-Smith doesn’t know it. Thank you for the books, Mr. Blenkinsop. I’ve used up a lot of Mr. Corder’s candles, reading them when I should have been asleep.”
“You mustn’t do that,” he said, with a little frown.
“Dishonest?”
“No. Tiring. As for dishonesty, I was going to telephone to Mrs. Spenser-Smith and say I’d got a cold—”
“I’m glad someone else can tell lies,” Hannah interjected.
“And then, Mrs. Gibson told me you’d be here, so I came too.”
“Well, tell me all about it, quick! You’ll be dragged away to play one of those idiotic games in a minute. What’s been happening?”
“I spent Christmas Day with a sister of my mother’s.”
“And when you got home—?”
“And when I got home, I felt worn out,” Mr. Blenkinsop said simply. “Sitting in a stuffy room, after a heavy meal, and trying to keep up a pleasant conversation.”
“Don’t I know it!” Hannah said feelingly. “I’ve spent years of my life doing that—years! At about fourpence halfpenny an hour. It’s grim, isn’t it? I’d rather have a suicidal husband. There’s some excitement about that and the hope of ultimate release.”
“Not if people insist on being as resourceful as you were,” Mr. Blenkinsop said incisively.
“No,” Hannah said penitently. “And yet you sent me those books! But go on, Mr. Blenkinsop. When you got home, worn out, in no state to deal with a difficult situation—what happened?”
“I went to bed, of course.”
“Oh dear,” Hannah groaned. “If I laugh out loud, Mrs. Spenser-Smith will hear me and take you from me, and I can’t spare you, but I’m longing to laugh! It hurts!”
He turned his mild, spectacled gaze on her. “What’s the joke?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing! I was prepared to hear the story of another rescue, and you merely went to bed!”
“I don’t see anything funny in that.”
“Perhaps there isn’t,” Hannah said amiably, and her lips twitched as she imagined his methodical retirement for the night; she saw him winding his watch, laying his clothes aside neatly, getting out a clean collar for the next day and examining the buttons about which he was so nervous, and Mr. Blenkinsop’s voice, more intense, reached her just as he was getting into bed.
“But there’ll have to be a rescue, of another kind, sooner or later,” he said, and Hannah told herself that he had come to the party to talk to her about Mrs. Ridding.
“I’m afraid to offer to help,” she said, “in case I do the wrong thing again, but if I can, I will.”
“The ridiculous part of it,” he confided, “is that I believe he’d be just as happy without her.”
“Well, that’s a comfort, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. I think it makes it worse.”
“You’re the best judge of that, Mr. Blenkinsop, but I should call it an extenuating circumstance.”
“These people simply suck the strength out of their relations—like vampires,” Mr. Blenkinsop said, becoming fanciful under emotion. “I believe he’d be better if he had a thorough change.”
“Of wives?” Hannah asked flippantly.
“I shouldn’t care to offer anybody the position,” he said bitterly.
“I may be wanting a job myself, before long,” Hannah said. “I suppose you don’t know any respectable old gentleman—but not too respectable—with a competency—and not an annuity—who would suit me?”
“Don’t be silly,” said Mr. Blenkinsop and, when he looked at her, he missed the mocking curve of her lips.
“I’m proud to say I’ve never asked anyone for help yet,” she said, “but the day may come. Yes, the day may come,” she repeated, and now he saw that she was smiling again, but not mockingly and not at him. “Mrs. Spenser-Smith has got her eye on you,” she said, “but stay here for a little longer if you can. It doesn’t do to boast. You see, I’m asking you for help already.”
“Just sitting here?”
“Just sitting here,” she said, and Mr. Blenkinsop settled himself in his chair with an adhesive pressure.
He was observant, as far as he went, which was no further than the person who held his interest at the moment. He had not the power to watch another group of people at the same time, to see the development of a situation or to feel slight differences in the atmosphere, which was Hannah’s by nature and by training, and he had no clue to her strained look which quickly changed to one of quivering, half merry determination. Mentally lost, Mr. Blenkinsop was firm in his seat. He knew not why he had to stay there, but stay there he would and, indifferent to everything but this duty, he endured the confusion of voices and laughter, the danger to his
