Neither Five Nor Three (Helen Macinnes) by Helen MacInnes Read Free Book Online

the blue suit with a quiet smile and a friendly look? That might be Scott. Rona was laughing up into his face. That could be Scott. Paul studied him. He was a reliable sort of man, a good mouth, a fine pair of eyes. Yes, he’d do all right.
    Then a thin anxious woman at Paul’s elbow pulled him back to the group around him. Why, she wanted to know, was he keeping Germany divided? Another woman, younger and prettier but too intense, stared gloomily at his uniform and announced she was a pacifist. Beside her, a heavy round-faced man told Paul with a bright smile that America was in the hands of reactionaries and warmongers, that was the whole trouble. The dazzling blonde, persisting, said he simply must see the Hapsburg Collection at the Metropolitan, it was out of this world. And the quiet redhead (if there could be such a contradiction in terms) asked him if he had yet seen The Cocktail Party ? The round-faced man said, with another bright smile, that America had never disarmed, that was the whole trouble. The blonde, edging out the redhead, said he must see the Cloisters, too, the new tapestries were divine and the wild cherry and plum trees would soon be out. Did he remember the view from there, over the garden wall, of the George Washington Bridge spanning the Hudson? The thin, anxious woman began to analyse The Cocktail Party. But someone preferred The Consul. Nonsense, the round-faced man said with a brighter smile, Menotti was politically naïve, didn’t know his brass from his oboe. A youngish man, listening from the background, said, “Absolute rubbish! That’s the new Communist line. Don’t fall for that Murray.” The too-intense girl laughed along with Murray at such naïveté. “Character assassination,” the young man persisted gamely, “but we’re getting wise.” The round-faced man called Murray said, “You’re getting wise? Hysterical, you mean.” And he plunged into an emotional argument.
    Paul took a deep breath, and tried to move away.
    But the redhead, watching Paul through her long dark eyelashes, wanted to know if he enjoyed skiing? She was temporarily routed by the thin-faced, anxious woman, who began to tell Paul all about the situation in Berlin. The redhead, her chin up, said it had been a miserable winter, no snow on the slopes at all. And Murray, finishing his speech, demanded to know why Paul was sending arms to the French.
    Paul, his retreat cut off by both blonde and redhead, listening, watching, didn’t have to talk at all. There’s always a lunatic fringe at every party, he thought, but where on earth did Rona find this little crowd?
    Scott Ettley arrived just after the second large group of guests.
    “Sorry, darling,” he said, kissing Rona, keeping her in the hall to kiss some more. “That damned office... I never can get away when I want to.” He held her in his arms. “Sounds as if we had a mob in that room. Has Father got here yet?”
    “Yes. Peggy’s talking to him, and he seems happy. Don’t worry.”
    “He’ll read me a lecture about being late.” Scott spoke in fun, but Rona didn’t feel like enjoying the joke. Why pretend his father behaved in a way he never behaved?
    “We’ve got an extra guest, Scott.” We’ve several, actually, but there’s only one I’m beginning to worry about, she thought. She told him quickly about Paul Haydn.
    Scott stared at her. “Paul Haydn? Why on earth did you ask him?” He was angry.
    “Don’t, darling. It’s all right. You know that.” She kissed him. “Be polite to him. That’s the best way to stop any gossip, isn’t it? After all, he’s going to be around New York now, and we’ll keep meeting him.”
    Scott looked relieved. “Was that why you asked him?” It wasn’t a bad idea. Treat Haydn naturally, and anyone inclined to a little malicious speculation would be disappointed. Rona had ended gossip before it could start. He pulled her into his arms again, kissed her violently and quickly. “Glad I’m