She attracts quite a different type from the other girls.
People like you and me.”
“Yes.”
“You wouldn't think she had a daughter of eight, would you.”
“No, it's very surprising.”
“I didn't know for ages.
Then I was taking her to Dieppe for the week-end and she wanted to bring the child along too.
Of course that put the kybosh on it, but I've always liked Milly just the same.
You can trust her to behave anywhere.” He said this with a sour glance towards Baby who was full of the right stuff and showing it.
It was after three before the party broke up.
Dan's friend renewed his invitation to come again when the roses were out.
“I doubt if you'll find a better show of roses anywhere in the south of England,” he said.
Dan drove them back to the hotel.
Baby sat beside him in front, disposed to be quarrelsome.
“Where were you?” she kept asking.
“Never saw you all the evening.
Where did you get to?
Where were you hiding?
I call it a lousy way to take a girl out.”
Tony and Milly sat at the back.
From habit and exhaustion she put her head on his shoulder and her hand in his.
When they reached their rooms, however, she said,
“Go quietly.
We don't want to wake Winnie.”
For an hour or so Tony lay in the warm little bedroom, reviewing over and over again the incidents of the last three months; then he too fell asleep.
He was awakened by Winnie.
“Mother's still asleep,” she said.
Tony looked at his watch.
“So I should think,” he said.
It was quarter past seven.
“Go back to bed.”
“No, I'm dressed.
Let's go out.”
She went to the window and pulled back the curtains, filling the room with glacial morning light.
“It's hardly raining at all,” she said.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to go on the pier.”
“It won't be open yet.”
“Well I want to go down to the sea.
Come on.”
Tony knew that he would not get to sleep again that morning.
“All right.
You go and wait while I dress.”
“I'll wait here.
Mother snores so.”
Twenty minutes later they went downstairs into the hall where aproned waiters were piling up the furniture and brushing the carpets.
A keen wind met them as they emerged from the swing door.
The asphalt promenade was wet with spray and rain.
Two or three female figures were scudding along, bowed to the wind, prayer books clutched in their gloved hands.
Four or five rugged old men were hobbling down to bathe, hissing like ostlers.