The Forgotten Story by Winston Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

accustomed to moving along the deck and catching lazy seamen unawares. He had a deep slow voice with an attractive Cornish burr. His black straight eyebrows almost met over a nose nearly as strong as Harris’s.
    Harris coloured slightly when he saw his wife approaching.
    â€˜How are you, Pat?’ he said, ignoring Pawlyn.
    â€˜Well, Tom,’ said Patricia.
    â€˜I very much wanted a chat with you,’ said her husband.
    â€˜What about?’
    â€˜I’d prefer to tell you that in privacy.’
    â€˜You can say anything you wish to say here.’
    Neither of the contesting parties seemed quite as confident or as much at ease in the presence of the other.
    â€˜Why?’ said Harris. ‘Are you afraid of giving me a few minutes?’
    Ned Pawlyn bulked close behind the girl. ‘Should she have reason to be afraid?’
    Harris looked at him for the first time. ‘ Do I know this gentleman?’
    â€˜Mr Pawlyn,’ said Patricia. ‘ Mate of The Grey Cat .’
    â€˜How d’you do. What was your question?’
    â€˜You heard me the first time,’ said Ned.
    â€˜Welly since you ask, I think perhaps Patricia is afraid of having a few minutes’ quiet talk with me alone.’
    â€˜What’re you getting at?’ Joe said, looking as if he regretted not having his carving knife.
    â€˜As Pat persistently refuses me a private interview,’ said Harris, ‘it looks to me that she is afraid of being persuaded to return to her gilded cage.’
    â€˜So you admit it was a cage?’ said Patricia.
    Tom Harris looked at her with his brown eyes.
    â€˜All people live in cages,’ he said. ‘Cages of good behaviour and decent manners. A cage is none the worse for being gilded.’
    â€˜See,’ said Ned Pawlyn, ‘you talk too much, mister –’
    Pat put a hand on his arm. ‘Let me manage this, Ned. Tom, I’m not coming to talk with you – not because I’m afraid, but because there is nothing to discuss. When I left you I told you I was not coming back. I haven’t changed my mind and am not likely to. So that’s all there is to it.’
    â€˜Not quite,’ said Harris.
    â€˜What have you to say to that?’ demanded Smoky Joe, plainly pleased with his daughter’s attitude.
    â€˜Only that I might petition for a restitution of conjugal rights.’
    Anthony saw the girl’s bosom begin suddenly to rise and fall.
    â€˜What d’you mean?’ demanded Ned Pawlyn. ‘Talk English. Restitu …’
    Harris looked at the other man pointedly. There was that flicker in his eyes again.
    â€˜I’ve stood your interference with very great patience, Mr Pawlyn. May I ask what damned business it is of yours?’
    â€˜Look,’ said Ned, ‘if you care to step outside I’ll teach you what business it is of mine.’ Pat laid her hand on the seaman’s arm.
    Harris nodded. ‘ I know. Bare fists. The only argument you understand. But today I did not come here to quarrel.’ He picked up his silk hat and slowly began to brush it with his long fingers, for all the world, Anthony thought, as if he were reassuring the hat that no harm would come to it. Tell me,’ he said. ‘Give me one valid reason among the three of you why I should not so petition. A wife’s place is with her husband – unless he should be brutal or diseased or insane. The marriage ceremony was entered into freely – I might even say eagerly. There’s no legal reason why I should be summarily deserted.’
    â€˜No legal reason,’ said Pat quietly. ‘ That’s the whole point. You only deal in legal things. You don’t feel things, I believe, until a seal has been put on them. Nothing is yours until it’s sworn to before witnesses. Then nothing else matters. Very well, then, go and petition. See what a laughing stock you’ll make of yourself!’
    She raised