The Coral Tree by Joyce Dingwell Read Free Book Online Page A

his, gave it a firm grasp, smiled “Good luck until I see you,” then came back to the hotel.
    At the top of the steps she turned and waved to him.
    He stood very still looking after her. Then he straightened up and waved back.
    Afterwards Cary was to regret her choice of words because of Jan ’ s interpretation, but just then they meant nothing at all to her other than her parting gesture; they meant as much as had that kiss she had thrown to him from the chairlift ascending the Horn.
    Not looking back, she ran inside.
    She left Mungen at five that evening, and from then on it was the usual confused dream of foreign place-names—Spiez, Berne, Basle, Calais, then at last Boulogne, and waiting to take them to Folkestone the Maid of Orleans.
    There was a raw wind blowing and the cr o ssing was rough, but Cary did not notice.
    At Victoria Station she waited to pass the Customs under a notice telling her she must not bring any Musk-rats, Parrots or Snuff.
    “I only brought a ruby-red sweater,” she smiled to the officer, and he must have believed her. He scrawled his magic sign on her bags, grinned, then turned to the next traveller.
    An hour later Cary had found a room in a small hotel. Half an hour after that she was pushing a legal door bearing the notice “Please Knock and Enter.”
    “I ’ m home, Mr. Beynon,” she said.
    Over the tea for which the solicitor had rung at once, Mr. Beynon ventured: “Did you mean that, Miss Porter?”
    She looked at him questioningly and he reminded: “You said just now you were home .”
    There was no hesitation in Cary now.
    “No, I really meant I was back. My home will not be in England. I ’ m going out again to Australia.”
    “And Clairhill?”
    Cary said quietly: “And Clairhill.”
    The solicitor nodded with satisfaction. “I told you those snowy giants would bring a solution,” he reminded.
    “They didn ’ t really. I found the answer in a valley.” Cary related the discovery of the lodge; she told him of the work being done there; she confided her plans to do the same in Australia.
    Again he nodded, this time with admiration as well as satisfaction. It was the same admiration that the two Miss Whitneys had given her, and Cary felt embarrassed. She had not even started to achieve, she thought. To change the subject she handed over the sweater.
    Mr. Beynon tore a little corner from the wrapping, and was so delighted with the color, he told Cary he thought he would add a pair of earrings to match.
    “It is our anniversary month , Miss Porter. Having your postcards from Mungen made us both feel on our honeymoon again. Will you come and help me choose?—and while we ’ re out we could call at the shipping offices and inquire as to sailing dates.” As they went together out of the building, the solicitor asked his client whether she had any preference in sea routes. “Perhaps, though, Miss Porter,” he added, “you intended to fly.”
    Cary said she had not intended flying. She wished to conserve her money as much as possible; she also looked forward to an enforced leisurely month or so planning her first important steps in this new venture.
    To Mr. Beynon ’ s question she answered: “The first available ship will do admirably.”
    W hen the shipping clerk announced that there was a cancellation a fortnight from now via the Cape she turned to the solicitor .
    “I ’ ll take that berth,” she instructed.
    On their way back to the office Mr. Beynon told Cary that she need not have been in such a hurry.
    “There is need,” she corrected him. “Haven ’ t you ever felt so anxious to begin that you can ’ t begin too soon?”
    Mr. Beynon explained that he had a representative in Sydney. This Edward Farrell would furnish him with the reports that would keep the Marlow allowance to Clairhill at a steady pace. “Steady,” he reminded, “but by no means extravagant, Miss Porter.”
    “I suppose not,” she nodded resignedly. “All charitable institutions