Unconditional surrender by Evelyn Waugh Read Free Book Online Page B

doesn’t seem to mind awfully. She’s worried about your father.’
    ‘So am I.’
    ‘She’s at Matchet now. As you know he’s stopped working at that school, which is something gained. He never ought to have taken it on at his age. He’s got this clot you know. It might become serious any moment.’
    ‘I know. I saw him last month. He seemed all right then but he wrote to me afterwards.’
    ‘There’s nothing one can do about it,’ said Box-Bender. ‘Angela thought she should be handy in case anything happened.’
    Guy went on to the bar where he found Ian Kilbannock talking to an elderly Grenadier.
    ‘... You know how sharp the royal eye is for any detail of equipment,’ he was saying. ‘The monarch sent for one of those daggers. That’s what set the royal mind brooding about cutlery.’
    ‘It’s been a great success.’
    ‘Yes I claim a little indirect credit for it myself. Evening, Guy. Who do you think has just turned me out of my house? – Virginia.’
    ‘How was she?’
    ‘On the rocks. I only saw her for a second but she was palpably on the rocks. I’d heard some loose talk about her affairs before.’
    ‘I’ll give you a drink,’ said Guy, ‘it’s my birthday. Two glasses of wine, Parsons.’
    Guy did not speak about the Electronic Selector but the thought of it warmed him as they talked of other things. When their glasses were empty the Grenadier said: ‘Did someone say it was his birthday? Three glasses of wine, Parsons.’
    When it would have been Ian’s turn to order, he said: ‘They’ve put up the prices. Ten bob a glass for this champagne now and it’s not good. Why don’t you come to Everard Spruce’s and drink free?’
    ‘Will he have champagne?’
    ‘Sure to. He enjoys heavy official backing and tonight he’s got two distinguished foreigners to impress. It’s pleasant to get into a completely civilian circle once in a while. D’you read his paper?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Nor do I. But it’s highly thought of. Winston reads it.’
    ‘I don’t believe you.’
    ‘Well perhaps not personally. But a copy goes to the Cabinet Offices I happen to know.’
    ‘I hardly know Spruce. The Loot’s going.’
    ‘Then anyone can. He’ll be able to get a cab. They always stop for Americans.’
    Lieutenant Padfield was still at work on his correspondence; he wrote rather laboriously; the pen did not come readily to him; in youth he had typed; in earliest manhood dictated. Ian sent him up to Piccadilly and, sure enough, he returned in a quarter of an hour with a taxi.
    ‘Glad to have you come with me,’ he said. ‘I thought you were not acquainted with Spruce.’
    ‘I changed my mind.’
    ‘
Survival
is a very significant organ of opinion.’
    ‘Signifying what, Loot?’
    ‘The survival of values.’
    ‘You think I need special coaching in that subject?’
    ‘Pardon me.’
    ‘You think I should read this paper?’
    ‘You will find it very significant.’
    It was nearly eight o’clock when they reached Cheyne Walk. Some of the party, including the neutral guests, had already sickened of Frankie’s cocktail and taken their leave.
    ‘The party’s really over,’ said one of the secretaries, not Frankie; she wore espadrilles and the hair through which she spoke was black. ‘I think Everard wants to go out.’
    Lieutenant Padfield was engaged in over-paying the taxi; he still, after his long sojourn, found English currency confusing and the driver sought to confuse him further. On hearing these mumbled words he said: ‘My, is it that late? I ought to be in Ebury Street. If you don’t mind I’ll take the taxi on.’
    Guy and Ian did not mind. The Lieutenant had fulfilled his manifest destiny in bringing them here.
    Strengthened in her resolution by this defection the secretary, Coney by name, said: ‘I don’t believe there’s anything left to drink.’
    ‘I was promised champagne,’ said Guy.
    ‘Champagne,’ said Coney, taken aback, not knowing who he was, not knowing