Mr. Waddington of Wyck | Page 7

to my country as much as any soldier, but
to say that I enjoyed the war--"

"If there hadn't been a war there wouldn't have been any service to be
glad about."
"My dear Fanny, it's a perfectly horrible suggestion. Do you mean to
say that I would have brought about that--that infamous tragedy, that I
would have sent thousands and thousands of our lads to their deaths to
get a job for myself? If I thought for one moment that you were
serious--"
"You don't like me to be anything else, dear."
"I certainly don't like you to joke about such subjects."
"Oh, come," said Fanny, "we all enjoyed our war jobs except poor
Ralph, who got gassed first thing, and then concussed with a
shell-burst."
"Oh, did he?" said Barbara.
"He did. And don't you think, Horatio, considering the rotten time he's
had, and that he lost a lucrative job through the war, and that you've
done him out of his secretaryship, don't you think you might forgive
him?"
"Of course," said Horatio, "I forgive him."
He had got up to go and had reached the door when Fanny called him
back. "And I can write and ask him to come and dine to-morrow night,
can't I? I want to be quite sure that he does dine."
"I have never said or implied," said Horatio, "that he was not to come
and dine."
With that he left them.
"The beautiful thing about Horatio," said Fanny, "is that he never bears
a grudge against people, no matter what he's done to them. I've no
doubt that Ralph was excessively provoking and put him in the wrong,
and yet, though he was in the wrong, and knows he was in it, he doesn't

resent it. He doesn't resent it the least little bit."
2
Barbara wondered how and where she would be expected to spend her
evenings now that Fanny's husband had come home. Being secretary to
Mr. Waddington and companion to Fanny wouldn't mean being
companion to both of them at once. So when Horatio appeared in the
drawing-room after coffee, she asked if she might sit in the
morning-room and write letters.
"Do you want to sit in the morning-room?" said Fanny.
"Well, I ought to write those letters."
"There's a fire in the library. You can write there. Can't she, Horatio?"
Mr. Waddington looked up with the benign expression he had had
when he came on Barbara alone in the drawing-room before dinner, a
look so directed to her neck and shoulders that it told her how well her
low-cut evening frock became her.
"She shall sit anywhere she likes. The library is hers whenever she
wants to use it."
Barbara thought she would rather like the library. As she went she
couldn't help seeing a look on Fanny's face that pleaded, that would
have kept her with her. She thought: She doesn't want to be alone with
him.
She judged it better to ignore that look.
She had been about an hour in the library; she had written her letters
and chosen a book and curled herself up in the big leather chair and
was reading when Mr. Waddington came in. He took no notice of her at
first, but established himself at the writing-table with his back to her.
He would, of course, want her to go. She uncurled herself and went
quietly to the door.

Mr. Waddington looked up.
"You needn't go," he said.
Something in his face made her wonder whether she ought to stay. She
remembered that she was Mrs. Waddington's companion.
"Mrs. Waddington may want me."
"Mrs. Waddington has gone to bed.... Don't go--unless you're tired. I'm
getting my thoughts on paper and I may want you."
She remembered that she was Mr. Waddington's secretary.
She went back to her chair. It was only his face that had made her
wonder. His great back, bent to his task, was like another person there;
absorbed and unmoved, it chaperoned them. From time to time she
heard brief scratches of his pen as he got a thought down. It was ten
o'clock.
When the half-hour struck Mr. Waddington gave a thick "Ha!" of
irritation and got up.
"It's no use," he said. "I'm not in form to-night. I suppose it's the
journey."
He came to the fireplace and sat down heavily in the opposite chair.
Barbara was aware of his eyes, considering, appraising her.
"My wife tells me she has had a delightful time with you."
"I've had a delightful time with her."
"I'm glad. My wife is a very delightful woman; but, you know, you
mustn't take everything she says too seriously."
"I won't. I'm not a very serious person myself."
"Don't say that. Don't say that."

"Very well. I think, if you don't want me,