The Young Nightingales by Mary Whistler Read Free Book Online

impression of him, and that was that, unless he liked dams in his shirts, he was some kind of lower-salaried man ... possibly a clerk in a local office who had just had his fortnight’s holiday and spent it in the mountains.
    “Well?” he asked, surveying her quizzically. “Do I look very disreputable?”
    “No, er ... No, no, of course not !” The taxi was slowing, and she realised that they had arrived at her hotel. He glanced up at the impressive white fa c ade of it and nodded his head in approval.
    “You should be comfortable there,” he said. “It is a good choice.”
    She gathered together her handbag and gloves, and prepared to nod to him coolly and say a frigid farewell, but he climbed out on to the pavement and insisted on handing over her cases and making sure that the hotel porter would relieve her of the necessity of carrying them into the hotel. Then he bowed in an attractively formal manner and wished her a happy holiday.
    “Make the most of it,” he said. “You will fall in love with Switzerland before you leave.”
    “Will I?” She produced some Swiss francs from her bag and turned to pay the taxi-man, but Maurice had already received his instructions in rapid French and he waved the offer aside.
    “It is all right, mademoiselle ,” he said. “You do not have to pay.”
    “But—” She felt annoyed, because it was her taxi and the man in climbing clothes had merely travelled as far as he had because she had permitted him to do so, and it was rather like having the tables turned and a beggar towards whom she had behaved generously returning her charity with interest.
    She felt her face flush and was quite sure her eyes sparkled with annoyance, but the extra passenger had leapt back into the taxi and waved Maurice to proceed. Without giving her time to argue the matter further he waved to her casually from the back of the cab and she thought that his slate-grey eyes were s milin g with amusement, and then the hotel porter led the way into the hotel and a welcoming receptionist wondered why the attractive new arrival appeared so obviously discomposed.
    Jane signed the register, received an impression of a great deal of up-to-the-minute opulence in her surroundings, and a quietly obsequious staff, and then was conducted into a gilded lift and upstairs to her room on the second floor, which had a wonderful wide window overlooking the lake.
    In a matter of minutes Jane had cooled down and forgotten her recent irritation entirely, largely because the view from the window was so breathtaking, and outside the window she had a balcony of her own on which she could sit and enjoy herself thoroughly by simply absorbing all the unfamiliarity and the charm of the prospect whenever she felt like doing so.
    It was true that night was closing down rather abruptly, but it was a wonderful July night, and the light lingered for some time on the high peaks on the farther shore of the lake. The stars shone like pale golden lamps when they first appeared in the dusky indigo blue of the sky, and each one was mirrored in the shimmering surface of the lake. In gardens with landing - stages running down to the edge of the lake lights gleamed fitfully amidst the gently stirring leaves of the overhanging trees, and pale paths of radiance streamed out across the lake.
    As Jane, having bathed and changed into something more suitable for going down to dinner, brushed her hair before her dressing-table mirror, she watched a steamer moving like a phantom over the silent water, and that, too, was illuminated by a whole string of lights which were reflected like a string of pearls in the lake.
    She was afraid that she was a little late for dinner when she entered the dining-room, but there were still plenty of people enjoying a leisurely meal at the flower-decked tables. It was the height of the holiday season, and her fellow guests were representative of many different countries, and most of them looked tanned and vigorous