Гунгун бьется о гору. Народное творчество

was why she knew that she could never think seriously of marriage with him, if for no other reason than his staid ways.

      The Crown was only three miles from Otterbury, on the Guildford road. It was a reasonably sized hotel, catering mainly for evening motorists who wanted to get away from the noise and bustle of the towns. It had built up a reputation for good service over the years and its restaurant was both efficient and well patronized. The food, cooked by a French chef, was delicious and varied in taste and Madeline always felt quite a gourmet eating there.

      The road to the Crown ran past the Sheridan factory, and she felt her eyes drawn to the place as they passed. She wondered what position the man held. He had said he worked at Sheridans, so he was possibly one of the managers. Driving the kind of automobile he drove, she hardly associated him with the shop floor. Besides, his clothes had had that definite air of good tailoring about them, and even Adrian’s suits did not fit him so well or look so expensive as that. And Adrian was a headmaster! But then Adrian bought things to last and they usually did.

      The Crown was very crowded, but their table was reserved week by week, so that at least was secure. Since the arrival of the Italians and Americans the town of Otterbury and its environs seemed to be getting smaller and the population was overrunning its limits everywhere. Adrian grumbled as he had to push his way through to the bar for their drinks. He fought his way back to her side as she stood near the entrance. He was carrying a vodka for her and a whisky for himself.

      ‘What a scrum!’ he muttered, easing himself into a position beside her. ‘It’s getting more like a rugby match every week. It never used to be like this.’

      ‘I don’t suppose the proprietors are grumbling,’ remarked Madeline wryly. ‘They’ll be grateful for the trade.’

      ‘I expect they are, but really, there’s nowhere to sit, and the fumes over by the bar are nauseating.’

      Madeline smiled. She was not as averse to crowds as Adrian, but even she could see that there was not much fun in standing in the doorway all evening.

      ‘Let’s go and have our supper then,’ she said. ‘After all, we can have a drink in there in comparative luxury.’

      ‘An excellent idea,’ said Adrian at once. ‘Lead on.’

      The supper room, too, was crowded, but Adrian’s table, under the window was waiting for them. They seated themselves thankfully, and Madeline removed her coat.

      They ate grilled salmon and peach soufflé, and Madeline sighed with enjoyment as she sipped her coffee.

      ‘That was absolutely delicious,’ she murmured, smiling. ‘You must admit, Adrian, if we were to change our hotel, we wouldn’t get a meal like that.’

      Adrian smiled. ‘Yes, you’re probably right. I feel altogether different about things now.’

      They lit cigarettes and were idly discussing a novel they had both read when a shadow fell across the table. Madeline looked up in surprise to see an elderly man smiling down on them. Adrian, looking up too, rose swiftly to his feet.

      ‘Hetherington!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s a long while since we’ve met.’

      Mr. Hetherington smiled benignly down and said:

      ‘May I join you for a moment?’

      ‘Of course, sit down,’ said Adrian easily. ‘Oh, by the way, this is my secretary, Mrs. Scott. I don’t believe you’ve met before. Madeline, this is Mr. Hetherington, the headmaster of the Grammar School.’

      ‘Yes, I know,’ said Madeline, smiling, and shaking hands with Mr. Hetherington. ‘Do sit down. We have finished.’

      Hetherington seated himself in the vacant chair and said:

      ‘I see you like the cuisine here, too.’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ said Madeline enthusiastically. ‘Do you come here often?’

      ‘Only as often as I can safely leave my wife,’ replied Hetherington slowly. ‘She’s a semi-invalid, you know, and I don’t like leaving her alone. However, I had a business engagement this evening and we came on here for a meal, afterwards.’ He turned to Adrian. ‘I’m glad I’ve run into you, Sinclair. I wanted a word with you.’

      ‘Oh, yes?’ Adrian was intrigued. ‘What about?’

      ‘Shall I leave you?’ Madeline looked questioningly at Hetherington.

      Hetherington shook his head and taking out his pipe he began to fill it.

      ‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ Madeline said: ‘No, not at all,’ and Hetherington lit his pipe ponderously.

      ‘Now,’ he said, when he had it going, ‘you know Conrad Masterson, don’t you, Sinclair?’

      Adrian frowned. ‘Conrad Masterson? No. Who’s he? Oh, wait a minute, you don’t mean the American who’s now running the Sheridan factory?’

      ‘That’s right. Do you know him?’

      Adrian shook his head. ‘No. I’ve only heard his name in passing. Why?’

      ‘Well, you’ll know he’s bought that house that used to belong to Lord Otterbury at Highnook.’

      ‘Yes, I had heard,’ Adrian nodded, and Madeline listened interestedly. What was all this about?

      ‘Well, I have his son, Conrad junior, at school. He’s thirteen and quite a bright boy. But that’s not what I was going to tell you.’ He chuckled. He was quite aware that his colleague was positively bursting with curiosity for him to get to the point. ‘No, actually, Masterson himself came in to see me earlier in the week and invited me and my wife to go up to his house for a drink on Monday evening. I explained that Mary was not up to social visiting, so he suggested that I came anyway and brought along anyone I cared to. I wondered whether you might like to come along with me. Like most Americans, Masterson is very gregarious and he wants to get to know people. Naturally, your position as headmaster of the only other secondary school in the town brought your name first to my mind. I was going to ring you tomorrow, but when I saw you here this evening, I couldn’t miss the opportunity to speak to you myself. I hope you don’t think I’m intruding?’

      ‘Not at all.’ Adrian was obviously intrigued and flattered. ‘It sounds a most fascinating prospect. I must admit these newcomers to our town interest me enormously.’

      Madeline hid a smile as she remembered his antipathy earlier in the evening when he had had to struggle to get drinks simply because of the crowd of newcomers.

      ‘I’ve never visited America,’ Adrian went on, ‘and I should welcome the chance to discuss the country with people who really know what they’re talking about. Of course I’ll come.’

      ‘Good. Good,’ Hetherington smiled in satisfaction. ‘I too think it should prove quite a stimulating affair.’ He turned to Madeline. ‘Do you enjoy working for our distinguished friend, Mrs. Scott?’

      Madeline smiled. ‘Very much, thank you. Adrian is a very considerate employer; not a slave-driver.’

      Hetherington puffed at his pipe. ‘Yes, I should think he would be, with a pretty thing like you. Can’t you jolt him out of his bachelor state? I understand you’re a widow.’ Madeline looked down at her cigarette and then with a twinkle in her eyes, she said: ‘I think Adrian is quite happy as he is, don’t you?’ She controlled her laughter.

      ‘We’re not children,’ remarked Adrian sarcastically, not at all amused. In his opinion, Hetherington was too keen on making preposterous remarks and getting away with them.

      ‘No, I’m sure you’re not,’ agreed Hetherington, chuckling himself. ‘Anyway, Sinclair, why don’t you ask Mrs. Scott if she would care to accompany us on Monday evening? I think she would enjoy it, too.’

      ‘I’m sure she would,’ said Adrian, nodding his approval. ‘Will you come, Madeline?’