The Chinese Shawl by Patricia Wentworth Read Free Book Online

sudden graceful movement.
    “Well, Laura, I hope you’re coming.”
    Laura said, “Why does she want me to come?”
    “I suppose because she thinks this idiotic quarrel has gone on long enough.”
    Laura felt that she had been ungracious. She said, still looking into the mirror,
    “It’s very nice of her—I do feel that. It isn’t easy to put a stop to something that has been going on for a long time. I do think it’s very nice of her.”
    “Then what’s the matter with coming?”
    Laura swung round on the low chintz-covered stool, comb in hand, black hair ruffled.
    “You know she wants to buy the Priory?”
    Tanis’s lids came down and veiled her eyes. She said,
    “Well?”
    “I don’t want to sell,” said Laura bluntly.
    The lids rose. The eyes looked out, very much alive, very green.
    “Well?”
    A note of distress came into Laura’s voice.
    “Of course I wouldn’t ever turn her out—I couldn’t do that. But I don’t want to sell unless I simply have to. I may have to—I don’t know—in which case it would be better for it to go to Cousin Agnes. But I haven’t made up my mind. I want to think it over.”
    The green eyes went on looking at her. A faint smile came, and slipped away.
    “Well?”
    “Don’t you see, if I go down there I’m afraid Cousin Agnes will think I’m saying yes, and I haven’t made up my mind. It wouldn’t be fair to let her think that I was going to say yes.”
    There—she had got it out, and it was easier than she had expected. The sense of dealing with an enemy had gone. She felt ashamed that it had ever been there between them. She turned back to the glass and straightened the ruffled hair. Tanis’s reflection smiled with a sudden bewildering charm.
    “Scrupulous person, aren’t you? Well, you’ve got it off the chest. Now listen! You can come down without prejudice. It won’t commit you to anything at all. It won’t be a meeting between a prospective buyer and seller. It won’t be anything except the aunts wanting to see you and put an end to the quarrel.”
    The smoke between them had spread into a faint blue haze. Laura thought, “I’ve been a beast. They want to be friends. I must go down.” She jumped up and came to the foot of the bed. As she picked up her dress she said gravely and frankly,
    “Thank you, Tanis—if it’s like that, I should like to come. Shall I ring Cousin Agnes up?”
    “Yes—she’d like that. We can go down tomorrow afternoon.”
    Laura pulled her frock over her head. If she was careful she could do it without disarranging her hair. She emerged successfully and was smoothing down the long, straight blackness, when Tanis said,
    “It ought to be quite a good party. We’ll get the end of the Maxwell boys’ leave, and there’ll be you, and me, and Petra, and Carey.”
    Laura turned back to the glass. Her heart beat hard. The dress needed a brooch. She picked up an old-fashioned circle of pearls and fingered it. Tanis’s voice came from behind her, lightly, sweetly.
    “Carey’s a charmer, isn’t he? But don’t take him seriously. He’s taken a fancy to you, but he’s never serious. It’s just the way he’s made—if he likes a girl he can’t help making love to her, but it doesn’t mean a thing.”
    Laura was pinning her brooch. The little white circle looked nice against the dead black velvet. The dress might be an old one, but it was very becoming. She turned round and said in the same grave way that she had spoken before,
    “You’re not engaged to him, are you, Tanis?”
    Simplicity is always disconcerting. Tanis was disconcerted, but not for any time long enough to be measured. In a flash she was adjusted and striking back with a suave,
    “Well, not exactly.”
    Laura looked at her. Her eyes said steadily, “What’s the good of saying that sort of thing to me?” Then she turned to the door.
    “Shall we go down? I think Cousin Sophy will be ready.”
    chapter 8
    Laura rang up the Priory as soon as the