Giant’s Bread · Book V · I · Chapter 5 1 3

III

The day had begun so peacefully⁠—and now it was spoilt. Tears came into Nell’s eyes. Why couldn’t people let her alone? Jane and her horrid sneering. Jane was a beast⁠—an uncanny beast. She knew where things hurt you most.

Why, even Joe had said that she, Nell, was quite right to marry George! Joe had understood perfectly. Nell felt aggrieved and hurt. Why should Jane be so horrid? And saying things like that about the dead⁠—irreligious things⁠—when everyone knew that the dead liked one to be brave and cheerful.

The impertinence of Jane to hurl a text at her head. A woman like Jane, who had lived with people and done all kinds of immoral things. Nell felt a glow of superior virtue. In spite of everything that was said nowadays, there were two different kinds of women. She belonged to one kind and Jane to the other. Jane was attractive⁠—that kind of woman always was attractive. That was why in the past she had felt afraid of Jane. Jane had some queer power over men⁠—she was bad through and through.

Thinking these thoughts, Nell paced restlessly up and down. She felt disinclined to go back to the house. In any case, there was nothing particular to do this afternoon. There were some letters that must be written some time but she really couldn’t settle to them at present.

She had forgotten about her husband’s American friend, and was quite surprised when George joined her with Mr. Bleibner in tow. The American was a tall thin man, very precise. He paid her grave compliments on the house. They were now, he explained, going to view the ruins of the Abbey. George suggested she should come with them.

“You go on,” said Nell. “I’ll follow you presently. I must get a hat. The sun is so hot.”

“Shall I get it for you, dear?”

“No, thanks. You and Mr. Bleibner go on. You’ll be ages pottering about there, I know.”

“Why, I should say that is very certain to be the case, Mrs. Chetwynd. I understand your husband has some idea of restoring the Abbey. That is very interesting.”

“It’s one of our many projects, Mr. Bleibner.”

“You are fortunate to own this place. By the way, I hope you’ve no objection, I told my chauffeur (with your husband’s assent, naturally) that he might stroll round the grounds. He is a most intelligent young man of quite a superior class.”

“That’s quite all right. And if he’d like to see the house the butler can take him over it later.”

“Now I call that very kind of you, Mrs. Chetwynd. What I feel is that we want beauty appreciated by all classes. The idea that’s going to weld together the League of Nations⁠—”

Nell felt suddenly that she couldn’t bear to hear Mr. Bleibner’s views on the League of Nations. They were sure to be ponderous and lengthy. She excused herself on the plea of the hot sun.

Some Americans could be very boring. What a mercy George was not like that! Dear George⁠—really, he was very nearly perfect. She experienced again that warm happy feeling that had surged over her earlier in the day.

What an idiot she was to have let herself be upset by Jane! Jane of all people! What did it matter what Jane said or thought? It didn’t, of course⁠—but there was something about Jane⁠—she had the power of⁠—well⁠—upsetting one.

But that was all over now. The old tide of reassurance and safety welled up again. Abbots Puissants, George, the tender memory of Vernon. Everything was all right.

She ran down the stairs happily, hat in hand. She paused a minute to adjust it in front of the mirror. She would go now and join them at the Abbey. She would make herself absolutely charming to Mr. Bleibner.

She went down the steps of the terrace and along the garden walk. It was later than she thought. The sun was not far from setting⁠—a beautiful sunset with a crimson sky.

By the goldfish pond a young man in chauffeur’s livery was standing with his back to her. He turned at her approach and civilly raised a finger to his cap.

She stood stock still and slowly an unconscious hand crept up to her heart as she stood there staring.