The Visit
The following afternoon Edith was standing by the piano in her
condensed white drawing-room, trying over a song, which she was
accompanying with one hand, when to her surprise the maid announced 'Mr
Aylmer Ross.' It was a warm day, and though there was a fire the
windows were open, letting in the scent of the mauve and pink hyacinths
in the little window-boxes. She thought as she came forward to meet him
that he seemed entirely different from last night. Her first impression
was that he was too big for the room, her second that he was very
handsome, and also a little agitated.
'I really hardly know how to apologise, Mrs Ottley. I oughtn't to have
turned up in this cool way. But your husband has kindly asked me to
dine with you tonight, and I wasn't sure of the time. I thought I'd
come and ask you.' He waited a minute. 'Of course, if I hadn't been so
fortunate as to find you in, I should just have left a note.' He looked
round the room.
* * * * *
Obviously it was quite unnecessary for him to have called; he could
have sent the note that he had brought with him. She was flattered. She
thought that she liked his voice and the flash of his white teeth when
he smiled.
'Oh, I'm glad I'm at home,' she said, in a gentle way that put him at
his ease, and yet at an immense distance. 'I felt in the mood to stop
at home and play the piano today. I'm delighted to see you.' They sat
down by the fire. 'It's at eight tonight. Shall we have tea?'
'Oh no, thanks; isn't it too early? I sha'n't keep you a moment. Thanks
very much.... You were playing something when I came in. I wish you'd
play it to me over again.'
* * * * *
Nine women out of ten would have refused, saying they knew nothing of
music, or that they were out of practice, or that they never played
except for their own amusement, or something of the kind; especially if
they took no pride whatever in that accomplishment. But Edith went back
to the piano at once, and went on trying over the song that she didn't
know, without making any excuse for the faltering notes.
'That's charming,' he said. 'Thanks. Tosti, of course.'
She came back to the fireplace. 'Of course. We had great fun last
night, didn't we?'
'Oh, _I_ enjoyed myself immensely; part of the time at least.'
'But after dinner you were rather horrid, Mr Ross. You wouldn't come
and talk to me, would you?'
'Wouldn't I? I was afraid. Tell me, do I seem many years older since
last night?' he asked.
'I don't see any difference. Why?'
'Because I've lived months--almost years--since I saw you last. Time
doesn't go by hours, does it?... What a charming little room this is.
It suits you. There's hardly anything in it, but everything is right.'
'I don't like to have many things in a room,' said Edith, holding out
her delicate hands to the fire. 'It makes me nervous. I have gradually
accustomed Bruce to my idea by removing one thing at a time
--photographs, pictures, horrid old wedding presents, all the
little things people have. They suggest too many different trains of
thought. They worry me. He's getting used to it now. He says, soon
there'll be nothing left but a couple of chairs and a bookcase!'
'And how right! I've had rather the same idea in my house, but I
couldn't keep it up. It's different for a man alone; things seem to
accumulate; especially pictures. I know such a lot of artists. I'm very
unfortunate in that respect.... I really feel I oughtn't to have turned
up like this, Mrs Ottley.'
'Why not?'
'You're very kind.... Excuse my country manners, but how nice your
husband is. He was very kind to me.'
'He liked _you_ very much, too.'
'He seems charming,' he repeated, then said with a change of tone and
with his occasional impulsive brusqueness, 'I wonder--does he ever jar
on you in any way?'
'Oh no. Never. He couldn't. He amuses me,' Edith replied softly.
'Oh, does he?... If I had the opportunity I wonder if I should _amuse_
you,' he spoke thoughtfully.
'No; I don't think you would at all,' said Edith, looking him straight
in the face.
'That's quite fair,' he laughed, and seemed rather pleased. 'You mean I
should bore you to death! Do forgive me, Mrs Ottley. Let's go on with
our talk of last night.... I feel it's rather like the Palace of Truth
here; I don't know why. There must be something in the atmosphere--I
seem to find it difficult not to think aloud--Vincy, now--do you see
much of Vincy?'
'Oh yes; he comes here most days, or we talk on the telephone.'
'I see; he's your confidant, and you're his. Dear Vincy. By the way, he
asked me last night to go to a tea-party at his flat next week. He was
going to ask one or two other kindred spirits--as I think they're
called. To see something--some collection. Including you, of course?'
'I shall certainly go,' said Edith, 'whether he asks me or not.'
Aylmer seemed to be trying to leave. He nearly got up once or twice and
sat down again.
'Well, I shall see you tonight,' he said. 'At eight.'
'Yes.'
'What shall you wear, Mrs Ottley?'
'Oh, I thought, perhaps, my mauve chiffon? What do you advise?' she
smiled.
'Not what you wore last night?'
'Oh no.'
'It was very jolly. I liked it. Er--red, wasn't it?'
'Oh no! It was pink!' she answered.
Then there was an extraordinary pause, in which neither of them seemed
able to think of anything to say. There was a curious sort of vibration
in the air.
'Isn't it getting quite springy?' said Edith, as she glanced at the
window. 'It's one of those sort of warm days that seem to have got
mixed up by mistake with the winter.'
'Very,' was his reply, which was not very relevant.
Another pause was beginning.
'Mr Vincy,' announced the servant.
He was received with enthusiasm, and Aylmer Ross now recovered his ease
and soon went away.
'Edith!' said Vincy, in a reproving tone. '_Really_! How _very_ soon!'
'He came to know what time we dine. He was just passing.'
'Oh, yes. He would want to know. He lives in Jermyn Street. I
suppose Knightsbridge is on his way to there.'
'From where?' she asked.
'From here,' said Vincy.
'What happened after we left?' said Edith. 'I saw the Cricker man
beginning to dance with hardly anyone looking at him.'
'Isn't his imitation of Nijinsky wonderful?' asked Vincy.
'Simply marvellous! I thought he was imitating George Grossmith. Do you
know, I love the Mitchells, Vincy. It's really great fun there. Fancy,
Bruce seems so delighted with Aylmer Ross and Miss Mooney that he
insisted on their both dining with us tonight.'
'He seemed rather carried away, I thought. There's a fascination about
Aylmer. There are so many things he's not,' said Vincy.
'Tell me some of them.'
'Well, for one thing, he's not fatuous, though he's so good-looking.
He's not a lady-killing sort of person or anything else tedious.'
She was delighted at this especially.
'If he took a fancy to a person--well, it might be rather serious, if
you take my meaning,' said Vincy.
'How sweet of him! So unusual. Do you like Myra Mooney?'
'Me? Oh, rather; I'm devoted to her. She's a delightful type. Get her
on to the subject of the red carnations. She's splendid about them....
She received them every day at breakfast-time for fifteen years.
Another jolly thing about Aylmer is that he has none of that awful
old-fashioned modernness, thank goodness!'
'Ah, I noticed that.'
'I suppose he wasn't brilliant today. He was too thrilled. But, do be
just a teeny bit careful, Edith dear, because when he is at all he's
very much so. Do you see?'
'What a lot you seem to think of one little visit, Vincy! After all, it
was only one.'
'There hasn't been time yet for many more, has there, Edith dear? He
could hardly call twice the same day, on the first day, too.... Yes, I
come over quite queer and you might have knocked me down with a
feather, in a manner of speaking, when I clapped eyes on him setting
here.'
Edith liked Vincy to talk in his favourite Cockney strain. It
contrasted pleasantly with his soft, even voice and _raffiné_
appearance.
'Here's Bruce,' she said.
Bruce came in carrying an enormous basket of gilded straw. It was
filled with white heather, violets, lilies, jonquils, gardenias and
mimosa. The handle was trimmed with mauve ribbon.
'Oh, Bruce! How angelic of you!'
'Don't be in such a hurry, dear. These are not from me. They arrived
just at the same time that I did. Brought by a commissionaire. There
was hardly room for it in the lift.'
Edith looked quickly at the card. It bore the name of the minister of
the place with a name like Ruritania.
'What cheek!' exclaimed Bruce, who was really flattered. 'What infernal
impertinence. Upon my word I've more than half a mind to go and tell
him what I think of him--straight from the shoulder. What's the
address?'
'Grosvenor Square.'
'Well, I don't care. I shall go straight to the embassy,' said Bruce.
'No, I sha'n't. I'll send them back and write him a line--tell him that
Englishwomen are not in the habit of accepting presents from
undesirable aliens.... I consider it a great liberty. Aren't I right,
Vincy?'
'Quite. But perhaps he means no harm, Bruce. I daresay it's the custom
in the place with the funny name. You see, you never know, in a place
like that.'
'Then you don't think I ought to take it up?'
'I don't want them. It's a very oppressive basket,' Edith said.
'How like you, Edith! I thought you were fond of flowers.'
'So I am, but I like one at a time. This is too miscellaneous and
crowded.'
'Some women are never satisfied. It's very rude and ungrateful to the
poor old man, who meant to be nice, no doubt, and to show his respect
for Englishwomen. I think you ought to write and thank him,' said
Bruce. 'And let me see the letter before it goes.'