Hole and Corner by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online Page B

her arm. He said,
    â€œYes, it’s hers.” And then, to the woman in red, “Miss Dale’s bag was on the floor. Perhaps you picked it up by mistake.”
    Ettie Miller made no movement to take her bag. She said, still in that unmodulated voice,
    â€œWell, it’s a funny sort of mistake that gets your purse with the best part of five shillings or so inside it into someone else’s bag.”
    Shirley held out the silver cord. Her eyes never wavered from Miss Miller’s face.
    â€œWon’t you take it if it’s yours? I don’t know how it got into my bag.”
    The whole thing had only lasted half a minute, but it was half a minute too long. Alfred Phillips came round the table with a decided “That’s enough, Ettie!” Whereupon Miss Miller said, “Oh, I’ll take it all right,” and did so with a very pronounced shrug of her shoulders. After which the pressure of Anthony’s hand became insistent, and Shirley, obeying it, turned and walked away.
    She had half the length of the Gold Room to walk, and some curious glances followed her and Anthony. She kept her head high, but the cornets of the room were full of a mist that stung her eyes. What a horrible thing to happen. But she mustn’t let herself think about it yet—not whilst all these people were looking at her. She felt a terrified longing for some dark place to hide in. The lights were very bright. The room was full of people. She and Anthony were walking, but they didn’t seem to be getting to the door. Anthony —Don’t think about Anthony. Don’t think about anything.
    They came to the door at last, and through an archway lined with mirrors to an empty corridor. Shirley looked straight ahead of her as they passed the arch, but she could just see herself and Anthony reflected endlessly from either side of it—a hundred Anthonys and a hundred Shirleys. No, far more than a hundred, only it made you giddy to think how many there were. And every one of the Shirleys feeling as if someone had struck her a blow in the dark. And every one of the Anthonys wishing that he had never set eyes on her, because he hated scenes worse than anything else in the world, and there certainly had been a scene—
    And then Anthony said, “You all right, Shirley?” and his voice was kind.
    She said, “Yes.” The answer was only just audible.
    Anthony did not find it at all a convincing sort of answer. He pushed open a door inscribed “Residents only”, and took her into a smallish room with some very comfortable chairs in it.
    â€œBut we’re not residents,” said Shirley, still only just above a whisper.
    Anthony put her into the most comfortable chair. Her knees were shaking so much that she stopped bothering about not being a resident. The chair wasn’t big, but it was very soft and comforting. He sat down facing her and said in a cheerful matter of fact voice,
    â€œAnd now what’s all this about?”
    Shirley felt so grateful that she could have kissed him then and there. He wasn’t going to treat her with stony politeness as if nothing had happened, or believe the simply frightful things which that horrible woman had hinted. He was going to be just ordinary, and friendly, and kind. She said, “Oh, Anthony!” and he patted her knee and told her to pull herself together.
    â€œIt was that woman’s bag all right, because she had it dangling on her wrist all the time she was fidgetting with that beastly white fur thing, and then about half way through dinner she settled down and I didn’t see it any more. But how on earth did het bag get inside yours?”
    Shirley’s right hand held her left hand very tight. She sat up stiffly and looked him straight in the face.
    â€œAnthony—do you think I put it there?”
    â€œOf course you didn’t.”
    Her eyes held his with a strained, insistent look.
    â€œI don’t