The Forsyte Saga, Volume 3(28)
‘She does,’ said Lady Henrietta; ‘her language is appalling.’
‘Go on, Hen!’ said Aunt Wilmet in a flattered voice.
Dinny left them and retired towards the house.
When she was dressed she went to Fleur’s room.
Her aunt’s maid was passing a minute mowing-machine over the back of Fleur’s neck, while Michael, in the doorway of his dressing-room, had his fingers on the tips of his white tie.
Fleur turned.
‘Hallo, Dinny! Come in, and sit down. That’ll do, thank you, Powers. Now, Michael.’
The maid faded out and Michael advanced to have a twist given to the ends of his tie.
‘There!’ said Fleur; and, looking at Dinny, added: ‘Have you come about Saxenden?’
‘Yes. I’m to read him bits of Hubert’s diary tonight. The question is: Where will be suitable to my youth and – ’
‘Not innocence, Dinny; you’ll never be innocent, will she, Michael?’
Michael grinned. ‘Never innocent but always virtuous. You were a most sophisticated little angel as a kid, Dinny; looked as if you were wondering why you hadn’t wings. Wistful is the word.’
‘I expect I was wondering why you’d pulled them off.’
‘You ought to have worn trouserettes and chased butterflies, like the two little Gainsborough girls in the National Gallery.’
‘Cease these amenities,’ said Fleur; ‘the gong’s gone. You can have my little sitting-room next door, and, if you knock, Michael can come round with a boot, as if it were rats.’
‘Perfect,’ said Dinny; ‘but I expect he’ll behave like a lamb, really.’
‘You never can tell,’ said Michael; ‘he’s a bit of a goat.’
‘That’s the room,’ said Fleur, as they passed out. ‘Cabinet particulier. Good luck!…’
Chapter Ten
SEATED between Hallorsen and young Tasburgh, Dinny had a slanting view of her Aunt and Lord Saxenden at the head of the table, with Jean Tasburgh round the corner on his right. ‘She was a “leopardess” oh! so fair!’ The tawnied skin, oblique face, and wonderful eyes of the young woman fascinated her. They appeared also to fascinate Lord Saxenden, whose visage was redder and more genial than Dinny had seen it yet. His attentions to Jean, indeed, were throwing Lady Mont to the clipped tongue of Wilfred Bentworth. For ‘the Squire’, though a far more distinguished personality, too distinguished to accept a peerage, was, in accordance with the table of precedence, seated on her left. Next to him again Fleur was engaging Hallorsen; so that Dinny herself was exposed to the broadside of young Tasburgh. He talked easily, directly, frankly, like a man not yet calloused by female society, and manifested what Dinny described to herself as ‘transparent admiration’; yet twice at least she went into what he described as a ‘near-dream’, her head turned high, and motionless, towards his sister.
‘Ah!’ he said. ‘What do you think of her?’
‘Fascinating.’
‘I’ll tell her that, she won’t turn a hair. The earth’s most matter-of-fact young woman. She seems to be vamping her neighbour all right. Who is he?’
‘Lord Saxenden.’
‘Oh! And who’s the John Bull at the corner on our side?’
‘Wilfred Bentworth, “the Squire”, they call him.’
‘And next to you – talking to Mrs Michael?’
‘That’s Professor Hallorsen from America.’
‘He’s a fine-looking chap.’
‘So everybody says,’ said Dinny, drily.
‘Don’t you think so?’
‘Men oughtn’t to be so good-looking.’
‘Delighted to hear you say that.’
‘Why?’
‘It means that the ugly have a look in.’
‘Oh! Do you often go trawling?’
‘You know, I’m terribly glad I’ve met you at last.’
‘At last? You’d never even heard of me this morning.’
‘No. But that doesn’t prevent you from being my ideal.’
‘Goodness! Is this the way they have in the Navy?’
‘Yes. The first thing they teach us is to make up our minds quickly.’
‘Mr Tasburgh – ’
‘Alan.’
‘I begin to understand the wife in every port.’
‘I,’ said young Tasburgh, seriously, ‘haven’t a single one. And you’re the first I’ve ever wanted.’
‘Oo! Or is it: Coo!’
‘Fact! You see, the Navy is very strenuous. When we see what we want, we have to go for it at once. We get so few chances.’
Dinny laughed. ‘How old are you?’