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Page 7
"Please don't get up," said Miss Norris. "I'll help myself.
Good morning, Major." She smiled pleasantly at him. The Major
nodded.
"Good morning. Going to be hot."
"As I was telling him," began Bill, "that's where--Hallo, here's
Betty. Morning, Cayley."
Betty Calladine and Cayley had come in together. Betty was the
eighteen-year-old daughter of Mrs. John Calladine, widow of the
painter, who was acting hostess on this occasion for Mark. Ruth
Norris took herself seriously as an actress and, on her holidays,
seriously as a golfer. She was quite competent as either.
Neither the Stage Society nor Sandwich had any terrors for her.
"By the way, the car will be round at 10.30," said Cayley,
looking up from his letters. "You're lunching there, and driving
back directly afterwards. Isn't that right?"
"I don't see why we shouldn't have--two rounds," said Bill
hopefully.
"Much too hot in the afternoon," said the Major. "Get back
comfortably for tea."
Mark came in. He was generally the last. He greeted them and
sat down to toast and tea. Breakfast was not his meal. The
others chattered gently while he read his letters.
"Good God!" said Mark suddenly.
There was an instinctive turning of heads towards him. "I beg
your pardon, Miss Norris. Sorry, Betty."
Miss Norris smiled her forgiveness. She often wanted to say it
herself, particularly at rehearsals.
"I say, Cay!" He was frowning to himself--annoyed, puzzled. He
held up a letter and shook it. "Who do you think this is from?"
Cayley, at the other end of the table, shrugged his shoulders.
How could he possibly guess?
"Robert," said Mark.
"Robert?" It was difficult to surprise Cayley. "Well?"
"It's all very well to say 'well?' like that," said Mark
peevishly. "He's coming here this afternoon."
"I thought he was in Australia, or somewhere."
"Of course. So did I." He looked across at Rumbold. "Got any
brothers, Major?"
"No."
"Well, take my advice, and don't have any."
"Not likely to now," said the Major.
Bill laughed. Miss Norris said politely: "But you haven't any
brothers, Mr. Ablett?"
"One," said Mark grimly. "If you're back in time you'll see him
this afternoon. He'll probably ask you to lend him five pounds.
Don't."
Everybody felt a little uncomfortable.
"I've got a brother," said Bill helpfully, "but I always borrow
from him."
"Like Robert," said Mark.
"When was he in England last?" asked Cayley.
"About fifteen years ago, wasn't it? You'd have been a boy, of
course."
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