She transferred her attention to the mirror, ran the lipstick over the painted curves of her mouth, and then very deliberately looked him up and down. Without a spoken word Car understood just how shabby he looked, and how impossible as an escort except by the indulgence of old friendship. Mirror and lipstick went back into the bag. Fay passed carelessly out. The tapping of her heels died away.
“Well!” said Miss Corinna Lee.
Car did not know what to say. Fay wanted shaking. If this pretty creature was a friend of Peter’s, things were going to be awkward. If they were great friends, she probably knew about Peter’s marriage. Perhaps he ought to have introduced Fay as Mrs. Lymington. He had never been able to see why there should be any secrecy. Well, it wasn’t his business.
By the time he reached this conclusion he was walking down the street with Miss Lee, and she was telling him how polite English railway porters were (was there a spice of malice here?) and how surprised she was to see London bathed in sunshine and with a blue sky overhead.
“I thought there would be a fog. Now you’re not going to tell me that London fogs are a myth?”
“We have them.”
“Now that’s a great relief! Will there be one tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I hope not.”
“You hope not. But I want to see a fog!”
Car laughed at her.
“Do you get everything you want?”
She looked as if she did. There was something of the unspoilt darling child about her. She looked as if she had sunshine and love always. Perhaps she wanted a fog for a change.
“Most of the time,” she said, and cocked her chin at him. “I’ve wanted to meet you.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
She went on as if he had not spoken.
“Because of Peter-and because of your name.”
“ Fairfax?”
She shook her head.
“I’d have liked it to be the Fairfax part of your name, because that’s romantic and historical, but I can’t tell a lie any more than Washington could. It would be a pity if I hurt myself trying to-wouldn’t it?”
“Rather!”
She looked at him with just a shade of anxiety in the round gray eyes.
“I guess I sound real crazy. But I’m not-I’m trying to break it to you that I’m a cousin.”
“It would have to be broken very gently.”
“I’m being as gentle as I can. You won’t fall right down in a faint, will you?”
“I’ll do my best.”
She stopped at a street corner and looked up at him.
“Well then, your name’s Carthew, and it was your mother’s name-wasn’t it?”
Car nodded.
“And she came from a place called Linwood?”
“She did.”
“And so did my grandmother,” said Corinna. Her eyes, her face, her voice all held a sort of quivering blend of earnestness and mischief.
“How topping!” said Car.
“I’m glad Peter didn’t tell you. I told him he wasn’t to.”
“Perhaps that’s why he didn’t write,” said Car.
They shook hands earnestly. Her hand was very small and soft. For the moment mischief was subdued. It was evidently an occasion-and an occasion ought to be celebrated. With a horrid sick feeling Car remembered that he couldn’t ask her to celebrate it. Fay’s look came back. His hand felt cold as it let go of Corinna’s gray glove.
“What’s the matter?” said Corinna.
“Nothing.” Why on earth had he let her carry him off like this?
“Didn’t I break it gently enough?”
“You broke it beautifully.”
“Then come along.”
“I-”
“What is it? Don’t you like me for a cousin?” The gray eyes were still mischievous, but the mischief was very faintly clouded over-mist over sparkling water.
Car felt himself getting hot.
“It isn’t that. I-I’m not dressed for a tea-party.”
“Carthew Fairfax-if you don’t come and have tea with me, I shall burst out crying, right here. Did you think I was asking a suit of clothes to tea? Because if you did, you’ve got to think again. Now, have I got to cry?”
Car’s embarrassment left him. Gray kittens have no conventions. They do not look at the seams of your coat or the bulges in your boots.
Corinna produced a handkerchief four inches square and wrinkled her nose in a preparatory sniff.
“Thank you very much for inviting me,” said Car.
XII
Half an hour later they were talking as if they had known each other always. Miss Lee was staying at the Luxe, and they had a tête-à-tête tea in her own sitting-room, with her own cushions making bright, delightful spots of color, and a large photograph of Poppa in the middle of the mantelpiece, and a small snapshot of Peter on either side of it.
He had learned that Poppa was the head of the Lee-Mackintosh Corporation, and that he thought a heap of Peter. He thought Peter was a real fine boy, and he didn’t mind his being English-at least, not much. Car gathered that continuous pressure was being brought to bear upon Poppa to think even more highly of Peter. He also gathered that Poppa had perfectly effete ideas about daughters traveling alone, and that Corinna was therefore saddled with a chaperone in the shape of Cousin Abby Palliser. She seemed quite capable of managing her however. Cousin Abby, having a passion for historical monuments, could always be sent to see St. Paul ’s, or Westminster Abbey, or the Houses of Parliament if Corinna wanted to get rid of her. This afternoon she was doing Westminster Abbey, and as she was an extremely conscientious sightseer, it would certainly take her several hours.
“And now,” said Corinna-“now I’m going to ask you questions.”
“All right.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not a bit.”
She was sitting behind the tea-table with her elbow on her knee and her little round chin in her hand.
“Sure?” she said.
Car wondered. He laughed and said,
“What are you going to ask?”
“Wait and see.” She waited herself for a moment, and then said, “Peter’s told me a lot, and I’ve guessed some of the things he didn’t tell me. If I’ve guessed wrong, you can put me wise. You know, Peter thinks the world of you, but he’s considerably worried, because he doesn’t think you’re getting a fair show. Now if my grandmother was a Carthew, I suppose that lets me in so I can talk about the Carthews without offending you. And if that’s so, well, the first thing I want to ask is why your Uncle John Carthew didn’t rally round when things went wrong.”
“He helped my mother,” said Car.
“But not you.”
“No-not me.”
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t know why he should.”
“Didn’t he offer to help you at all?”
“Yes-on conditions.”
“And you couldn’t take them?”
“No.”
She didn’t ask what they were-that was a relief; she just sat and looked at him with perfectly round innocent eyes under a fluff of dark hair. The little gray hat lay on the floor beside her chair. Her hair was darker than he had expected. Its brown was the soft velvet brown of a bulrush. It increased her resemblance to a kitten, for it had the light, soft look of fur. It was very thick, and yet very light.
After a bit she said, “The job Peter got was offered to you first.”
Car flushed up to the roots of his hair and objurgated Peter in his heart.
“Oh well, it was for either of us. It-it wouldn’t have suited me to leave England then.”
She nodded.
“You let Peter have it. How many jobs have you had since Peter went out?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Have you got a job now?”
“Not just at the moment.”
A look came over her face like a shadow passing quickly.
“You think I’m very inquisitive. I’m not. I’ve got to ask you something more, and I’m scared you’ll be angry with me.”
She didn’t look in the least scared; she looked as friendly as the friendliest importunate creature that does not know what it is to get no for an answer.