lxxv
KITTY did not know whether it was by chance or by design that she never found herself for a moment alone with Charlie. His tact was exquisite. He remained kindly, sympathetic, pleasant and amiable. No one could have guessed that they had ever been more than acquaintances. But one afternoon when she was lying on a sofa outside her room reading he passed along the verandah and stopped.
“What is that you’re reading?” he asked.
“A book.”
She looked at him with irony. He smiled.
“Dorothy’s gone to a garden-party at Government House.”
“I know. Why haven’t you gone too?”
“I didn’t feel I could face it and I thought I’d come back and keep you company. The car’s outside, would you like to come for a drive round the island?”
“No, thank you.”
He sat down on the foot of the sofa on which she lay.
“We haven’t had the chance of a talk by ourselves since you got here.”
She looked straight into his eyes with cool insolence.
“Do you think we have anything to say to one another?”
“Volumes.”
