Then Beaver said,
“Well, I think perhaps I'll leave you now.”
“Yes, run along.
Thank you for coming.”
He went off down the platform.
There were still eight minutes to go.
The carriage suddenly filled up and Brenda felt tired out.
“Why should he want to take me, poor boy?” she thought, “only he might have done it better.”
“Barnardo case?”
Brenda nodded.
“Down and out,” she said, “sunk, right under.”
She sat nursing her bread and milk, stirring it listlessly.
Every bit of her felt good for nothing.
“Good day?”
She nodded.
“Saw Marjorie and her filthy dog.
Bought some things.
Lunched at Daisy's new joint.
Bone setter.
That's all.”
“You know I wish you'd give up these day trips to London.
They're far too much for you.”
“Me?
Oh, I'm all right.
Wish I was dead, that's all … and please, please, darling Tony, don't say anything about bed, because I can't move.”
Next day a telegram came from Beaver.
Have got out of dinner 16th. Are you still free.
She replied: Delighted. Second thoughts always best. Brenda.
Up till then they had avoided Christian names.
“You seem in wonderful spirits today,” Tony remarked.
“I feel big.
I think it's Mr. Cruttwell.
He puts all one's nerves right and one's circulation and everything.”
Three
“Where's mummy gone?”
“London.”
“Why?”
“Someone called Lady Cockpurse is giving a party.”
“Is she nice?”
“Mummy thinks so.
I don't.”
“Why?”
“Because she looks like a monkey.”
“I should love to see her.
Does she live in a cage?
Has she got a tail?
Ben saw a woman who looked like a fish, with scales all over instead of skin.
It was in a circus in Cairo.
Smelt like a fish too, Ben says.”
They were having tea together on the afternoon of Brenda's departure.