A handful of dust by Evelyn Waugh Read Free Book Online Page B

paying, Beaver felt constrained from ordering anything that looked obviously expensive. However she insisted on champagne, and later a ballon of liqueur brandy for him. "You can't think how exciting it is for me to take a young man out. I've never done it before." They stayed at Espinosa's until it was time to go to the party, dancing once or twice, but most of the time sitting at the table talking. Their interest in each other had so far outdistanced their knowledge that there was a great deal to say. Presently Beaver said, "I'm sorry I was an ass in the taxi just now." "Eh?" He changed it and said, "Did you mind when I tried to kiss you just now?" "Me? No, not particularly." "Then why wouldn't you let me?" "Oh dear, you've got a lot to learn." "How d'you mean?" "You mustn't ever ask questions like that. Will you try and remember?" Then he was sulky. "You talk to me as if I was an undergraduate having his first walk out." "Oh, is this a walk out?" "Not as far I am concerned." There was a pause in which Brenda said, "I am not sure it hasn't been a mistake, taking you out to dinner. Let's ask for the bill and go to Polly's." But they took ten minutes to bring the bill, and in that time Beaver and Brenda had to say something, so he said he was sorry. "You've got to learn to be nicer," she said soberly. "I don't believe you'd find it impossible." When the bill eventually came, she said, "How much do I tip him?" and Beaver showed her. "Are you sure that's enough? I should have given twice as much." "It's exactly right," said Beaver, feeling older again, exactly as Brenda had meant him to. When they sat in the taxi Beaver knew at once that Brenda wished him to make love to her. But he decided it was time he took the lead. So he sat at a distance from her and commented on an old house that was being demolished to make way for a block of flats. "Shut up," said Brenda. "Come here." When he had kissed her, she rubbed against his cheek in the way she had. Polly's party was exactly what she wished it to be, an accurate replica of all the best parties she had been to in the last year; the same band, the same supper, and, above all, the same guests. Hers was not the ambition to create a sensation, to have the party talked about in months to come for any unusual feature, to hunt out shy celebrities or introduce exotic strangers. She wanted a perfectly straight, smart party and she had got it. Practically everyone she asked had come. If there were other, more remote worlds upon which she did not impinge, Polly did not know about them. These were the people she was after, and here they were. And looking round on her guests, with Lord Cockpurse who was for the evening loyally putting in one of his rare appearances at her side, she was able to congratulate herself that there were very few people present whom she did not want. In other years people had taken her hospitality more casually and brought on with them anyone with whom they happened to have been dining. This year, without any conscious effort on her part, there had been more formality. Those who wanted to bring friends had rung up in the morning and asked whether they might do so, and on the whole they had been cautious of even so much presumption. People, who only eighteen months before would have pretended to be ignorant of her existence, were now crowding up her stairs. She had got herself in line with the other married women of her world. As they started to go up, Brenda said, "You're not to leave me, please. I'm not going to know anybody," and Beaver again saw himself as the dominant male. They went straight through to the band and began dancing, not talking much except to greet other couples whom they knew. They danced for half an hour and then she said, "All right, I'll give you a rest. Only don't let me get left." She danced with Jock Grant-Menzies and two or three old friends and did not see Beaver again until she came on him alone in the bar. He had been there a long time,