They sat for a few seconds without moving.
Then Brenda slipped free and Beaver got out.
“I'm afraid I can't ask you in for a drink.
You see it isn't my house and I shouldn't know where to find anything.”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, goodnight, my dear.
Thank you a thousand times for looking after me.
I'm afraid I rather bitched your evening.”
“No, of course not,” said Beaver.
“Will you ring me in the morning … promise?”
She touched her hand to her lips and then turned to the keyhole.
Beaver hesitated a minute whether he should go back to the party, but decided not to.
He was near home, and everyone at Polly's would have settled down by now; so he gave his address in Sussex Gardens, and went up to bed.
Just as he was undressed he heard the telephone ringing downstairs.
It was his telephone.
He went down, two flights in the cold.
It was Brenda's voice.
“Darling, I was just going to ring off.
I thought you must have gone back to Polly's.
Is the telephone not by your bed?”
“No, it's on the ground floor.”
“Oh dear, then it wasn't a very good idea to ring up, was it?”
“Oh, I don't know.
What is it?”
“Just to say `goodnight.' “
“Oh, I see, well — goodnight.”
“And you'll ring me in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Early, before you've made any plans.”
“Yes.”
“Then goodnight, bless you.”
Beaver went up the two flights of stairs again, and got into bed.
“… going away in the middle of the party.”
“I can't tell you how innocent it was.
He didn't even come in.”
“No one is going to know that.”
“And he was furious when I rang him up.”
“What does he think of you?”
“Simply can't make me out at all … terribly puzzled, and rather bored in bits.”
“Are you going to go on with it?”
“I shouldn't know.”
The telephone rang.
“Perhaps that's him.”
But it was not.
Brenda had come into Marjorie's room and they were having breakfast in bed.
Marjorie was more than ever like an elder sister that morning.
“But really, Brenda, he's such a dreary young man.”
“I know it all.
He's second rate and a snob and, I should think, as cold as a fish, but I happen to have a fancy for him, that's all … besides I'm not sure he's altogether awful … he's got that odious mother whom he adores … and he's always been very poor.
I don't think he's had a fair deal.