concealing this last inadequacy, reflected with surprising accurateness the formality of Marthaâs sentiments; but Mrs. Taylor managed to think it very sweet of her.
So did Eric manage to continue to think of Martha as sweet; also lonesome and defenceless. To be in love at last (in Paris) made Eric so happyâa club-tie, so to speak, at last awardedâhe instinctively protected himself against disillusion by translating Marthaâs every inappropriate characteristic into an appropriate virtue. Was she doggedly mute?âShe was shy. Was she glum?âShe was sad. Even the way she wolfed her food roused Ericâs protective tenderness: she obviously didnât (the poor little thing) get enough to eat â¦
âI donât know what Marthaâs people are paying for her,â said Eric worriedly, âbut Iâve seen myself, Mother, she has nothing for lunch but a sandwich!â
So he could translate even half a long French loaf over-stuffed with charcuterie . He was in love all right.
Why Martha, to whom any possessive affection was peculiarly repellent, didnât for her part nip his passion in the bud (even at the price of foregoing a weekly bath), was because she remained ignorant of it. Eric Taylor, in love, still wasnât ready to make love. He felt himself he hadnât yet quite got the hang. (By another neat piece of translation, feared to alarm Marthaâs virginal timidity.) A parting pressure of the hand was the most he attempted; which upon Martha, who had a grip like a navvyâs, left no impression at all.
Yet with what gay, offhand debonaireness did Eric now cash the pretty debsâ cheques at the City of London (Paris branch) Bank! How easily, now, met their long-lashed glances! Marthaâs stolid regard meant far more to him.âHow many a svelte gazelle-like form was obliterated, in that resolutely devoted eye, by Marthaâs stocky figure! Eric had never been so happy in his life; and put on at least a couple of pounds.
Chapter Six
Though Friday evening at the Taylorsâ thus became a feature of Marthaâs routine equally agreeable to all partiesâMrs. Taylorâs fears allayed, Madame Dubois and Angèle making up for lost time by rowing once a week, Martha herself, once a week, clean as a pinkâthere arose certain complications which Martha had not foreseen.
She was definitely undesirous of any further involvement with her nice friends. One family evening a week was as much as she could stomach. She certainly didnât want the Taylors cluttering up the rue de Vaugirard. But she had considerable difficulty in preventing it. As Madame Dubois pointed out, such regular hospitality entitled Mrs. Taylor to a little luncheon at least, if not a little dinner. (Also might not Angèle too, thought Madame Dubois practically, find in Mrs. Taylor a nice friend? Their circle was so narrow!) Madame Dubois dispatched by Martha several pressing invitations at first verbal, then by note. Nor would Mrs. Taylor have been surprised to receive such. Martha simply suppressed them; but then had to invent refusals. These were at first of the simple previous-engagement or cold-in-the-head type; but Martha soon grew bored with inventing even them.
âMrs. Taylor says thank you very much,â reported Martha finally, âbut she never goes out anywhere at all because of her back.â
âWhat is wrong with her back?â demanded Madame Dubois suspiciously.
âLumbago,â said Martha. (She knew about lumbago because Harry Gibson had it.)
âIt does not seem to prevent her accepting other engagements!â cried Madame Dubois. âNo doubt of a more interesting nature!â
She was only too ready to suspect Mrs. Taylor of pride. She took umbrageâjust as Mrs. Taylor did; Martha was undoubtedly guilty of fomenting bad Anglo-French relations, but at least she kept the Taylors out of the rue de Vaugirard.
Angèle proved a
Learning to Kill: Stories