“Why,” said Derry Peruke, “did you approach me?”
Rosemary put up a hand and touched his face.
“Because I thought it was silly for two such old friends to go down
without discussing their fate.”
Derry turned his head quickly and kissed her fingers. These flew back to
the wheel.
“And now,” said Rosemary contentedly, “what are we to do? We haven’t
been wasting time, because we’ve decided two things. The first is that
action is rather better than speech, and the second that if we’re to act
we’d better look sharp about it.”
“Supposing,” said Derry Peruke, “supposing we fell in love.”
Rosemary started violently, and the car swerved.
Then she began to laugh.
“By way of curing them? Or consoling ourselves?”
“Both,” said Derry. “If the sight of us getting off doesn’t open their
eyes, then will nothing this side of a lawyer’s clerk. Secondly, I don’t
know about you, but I’m ripe—ready to drop for consolation of a
tangible sort. And what more natural than that I should turn to my
loving little friend—Rosemary Chase? She’s sweet, she’s beautiful: I’ve
loved her for fifty years: she’s got the prettiest hands and a face like
a fairy-tale: her hair—what have you got on your hair? It’s all—all
mellifluous. Oh, and just look at your mouth!”
“That’ll do,” said Rosemary shakily. “Privy scandal’s no good.”
“Rot the scandal,” said Derry. “Besides, I’m naturally virtuous, so if
I’m to come off in public I must have a smell at the jumps. Quite apart
from that, my darling, it’s making me well. I’ve always found you
lovely, and a chance of telling you so is good for my heart. And it
ought to be good for yours—unless you hate me.”
“You know I don’t hate you, Derry, but I’m rather bad at games.”
“What good d’you think I am? I’ve never kissed a woman but Jenny since I
was wed. The mercy is that, now that we’ve got to play, we’ve drawn each
other instead of a couple of souls. It’s not a game that I’d play with
everyone.”
Rosemary threw up her head.
“I’m not going to keep Virginia’s saddle dry.”
“Or I Roger’s,” said Derry. “Don’t you believe it, my dear. If I didn’t
think I could stand on my own flat feet, I’d get out of this chaise.”
“But it wouldn’t console me at all to throw my arms round your neck. I’m
very fond of you, Derry, but Roger’s my man.”
“And Jenny’s my girl,” said Derry. “That’s why I want her back. And I
think the way to get her is to show her that she hasn’t got me. Very
well, then. I’ve got to find a playmate.”
“That shouldn’t take you long,” said Rosemary Chase. “I could
mention——”
“I’ve a weakness,” said Derry Peruke, “for playing the game. I hate
making love to a girl with my tongue in my cheek. Yet to explain the
position would be to court trouble of the corrosive sort.”
Rosemary laughed.
“It’s perfectly obvious,” she said, “that you’ve known me too long.
Familiarity has bred a wholesome contempt.”
“One moment,” said Derry calmly. “All I’ve just said about me can be
said about you—except that, even if you explained the position to your
prey, he wouldn’t retort with vitriol. In fact, you’re so very charming
that he’d probably jump at the chance. But that’s beside the
point—which is that we each need a playmate by whom we can play the
game. Well, our respective spice have fairly slung us into each other’s
arms. . . . If you don’t want to play, say the word. But I think it’s a
chance. Perhaps I was foolish to say that I loved you, dear, and that,
as the game had to be played, I’d be happy to play it with you, but
seventeen years of admiration are bound to leave their mark.” Rosemary
bowed her head. “With anyone else I’d hate it. In fact, it couldn’t be
done. With you—well, it’s very easy, lady, and that’s the truth.” He
slid an arm round her waist. “I know I’m in love with Jenny, but when I
say that I love you you know it’s true. For one thing, who could help
it? Look at your mouth. . . . But it wouldn’t console me to kiss you, if
you didn’t—understand. A state of emergency exists, requiring special
measures of an abnormal kind. That I find those measures sweet is pure
good fortune: they might have been nauseous. Of course, if you find
them——”
“I don’t,” said Rosemary, laying her head against his. “I—I rather like
them, Derry. . . . I wonder what Roger would say if he——”
“Will say,” corrected Derry. “Unless I’m much mistaken, it’ll send the
blood to his head. An’ the same with my lawful wife. Then perhaps
they’ll begin to perceive that marriage is not like bettin’ an’ you
can’t have a bit each way. Whereupon they’ll gird up their loins and
return to the fold.”
“And we?”
“I suppose we shall have to do the same,” said Derry ruefully. “It’s
rather hard, isn’t it? They’ve gone an’ thrown us together an’ presently
they’ll tear us apart. Never mind, I shall write to you surreptitiously.
And when I smudge the letter you’ll know that I’m thinking of a night
when your hair was full of the Rubaiyat and your blessed cheek stung me
till I wanted to pick you up and carry you into the hills.”