The House Above the River by Josephine Bell Read Free Book Online Page B

depression is gone, but she is overexcited, she seems to be in a fever. We have had these crises before, but this is worse than any.”
    â€œWhat has it all to do with me?” asked Giles, steadily.
    Francine drew herself up. She said, with great dignity and respect, “It is quite clear to us all that you are a very old friend of Madame.”
    â€œDid she tell you that, herself?”
    â€œOf course not. Monsieur Davenport told me. He must have learned it from Madame.”
    â€œMonsieur Davenport talks to you about his private affairs?”
    She smiled.
    â€œI have known him since he was a little boy, tearing his clothes in the woods, getting them wet in the fishermen’s boats.”
    â€œI see.” He thought for a moments then said, gravely, “It is quite true that I used to know Madame Davenport. But I have not seen her for eight years. I did not know whom she had married; I did not know she was living here. If I had known it,” he finished, with slow emphasis on every precise French word he used, “I should not have come into the house.”
    Francine met his eyes with a gaze as frank and serious as his own. But she only said, as at length she turned to open the door, “You speak very good French, monsieur. You have no accent at all.”
    â€œI spent my war in the British Navy,” he answered, “and that included the west coast of France, North Africa, and later Normandy. Also I come to your side of the Channel nearly every summer in my yacht. I have been to Tréguier twice before!”
    â€œBut you have never visited us till now.”
    â€œI never even knew there was a house above the river. I never noticed the landing-stage till it appeared out of the fog.”
    Francine sighed. As she opened the door she said, in a low voice, “It would be better that Madame did not know I have spoken to you like this.”
    Giles answered, “May I remind you that I am not in Madame’s confidence?”
    He hoped the old busybody would understand from his tone of voice that he did not want to be in Madame’s confidence, and would damn well see he was not exposed to it. Watching Francine’s set face as she left the room he thought he had succeeded.
    Meanwhile Tony and Phillipa, finding their bags also set out on chairs, had unpacked the simple contents quickly, and Phillipa had changed her slacks for a skirt. They went back to the sitting-room downstairs. This time Miriam was there, full of apologies for not having been in time to greet them when they first arrived.
    â€œI’m afraid I get up very late,” she explained.
    There seemed to be no suitable answer to this. But Miriam evidently did not expect one. She went on at once to ask them about their voyage over from England, their friendship with Giles, their home surroundings and his.
    â€œHow lucky for you to have grandparents for your children, who will look after them when you go away.”
    Phillipa agreed warmly.
    â€œGiles seems to have no family?”
    â€œOh, no, he isn’t married,” Tony said, and added, “In the six years we’ve known him he hasn’t taken more than a passing interest in any of the nice girls we keep throwing at his head.”
    Phillipa laughed, but Miriam said, in a husky voice, “He was not always like that.”
    â€œYou know him, don’t you?” Phillipa asked, boldly. She was determined to clear up the implied mystery.
    â€œI nearly married him. Eight years ago,” answered Miriam, enjoying the effect of this speech.
    â€œI’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have said …”
    â€œYou need not be sorry! Giles is not sorry. Anyone can see that!”
    The Marshalls felt very uncomfortable at this outburst. Miriam laughed, rather wildly. “I am obviously not sorry,” she declared, looking from one to the other. “He walked out on me, but Henry walked in. So who is the loser?”
    Tony and