The Alien by Josephine Bell Read Free Book Online Page A

disappointment she watched him go away to fetch a chair. As he was unfolding it she said, with exaggerated casualness, “Sorry I didn’t bring one out here. I wasn’t sure when you’d be coming.’’
    This implied a lack of courtesy that Boris felt he must defend.
    â€œBut I telephoned. You answered yourself. I said I would ‘look in’. That is the phrase, I think.’’
    â€œIt is, but it can mean you may not do so. It is fairly non-committal.’’
    â€œNone—’’
    She explained. They had a short, very boring discussion of the English language.
    â€œWell,’’ Margaret said, when she had managed to stop his questions, “now tell me about the new job. Is it to be permanent?’’
    He spread out his hands.
    â€œHow can I know? They give me six months and to have my permit renewed later. The British are sympathetic but very careful.’’
    â€œSo we should be. But I’d have thought, knowing your history, knowing you were persona grata when you came to us before the war, they’d make an exception.’’
    Boris did not answer at once. Then he said, “We have discussed this question before, Margaret. So many times. It is good that I stay – for six months – perhaps a year—’’
    â€œPerhaps for always if you get naturalized,’’ Margaret urged.
    â€œPerhaps.’’
    His smile turned her heart over but he did not move from his chair, just lay back, quite evidently delighting in his surroundings, in the sunshine beyond their shade, in the filtered light where they sat, even in herself. But as part of his surroundings only, her mind told her, bitterly.
    â€œThis job,’’ she said. “You haven’t said anything about it. Is it whole-time?’’
    â€œYes. It is much better than the little lectures at the university and the lessons in languages. There is no one to learn Polish and to teach Russian makes me ill.’’
    â€œSick,’’ she corrected automatically. “Go on.’’
    â€œThis company, Swedish, you know, trades in the Baltic. I have been seven years on Russian ships in the Baltic. My – experiences, – is useful to them. My exact job is to translate and write letters.’’
    â€œI see. D’you like the work?’’
    â€œIt is a job,’’ he said, gravely, without enthusiasm. “The pay is good.’’
    That was self-evident. He hardly looked the same man as the rough, hairy, sea-racked creature who had caused such a sensation emerging on to the cliffside at Higlett Bay. He was clean-shaved now, though the shadow of his beard was always present on his lean jaw. His hair, abundant though it was, lay in a controlled sweep back from his forehead. His face without the beard was narrower than it had appeared before, and with better living and the sun of that excellent summer, had turned an attractive brown. With his blue-grey eyes he might belong to any northern European country, Margaret thought, or even to America, though the faces there, she had noticed on two visits with Colin, were predominantly round or square. His clothes were good, chosen, as one would expect, with taste and economy. The suit he wore that afternoon was one she had not seen before.
    â€œThe pay must be very good,’’ she said, lightly, “if you can afford a new suit like that one. Who made it?’’
    He gave her the name of Colin’s tailor.
    â€œDid Colin tell you where to go?’’
    â€œStephen. You like it – my suit?’’
    â€œVery much.’’ She laughed. “Colin converted Stephen three years ago.’’ She went on, thoughtfully, “Do you see much of Stephen? And Ann?’’
    â€œOf Stephen, yes, we meet. Ann, once, perhaps. She is so charming. So pretty. He is like a watch-dog when he has her with him.’’
    He laughed loudly. Margaret made