She wondered if she could be any use to you at the shop.”
“Well … It's hard to say.
At any other time she is exactly the kind of saleswoman I am always looking for … but I don't know.
As things are I'm not sure it would be wise.”
“I said I'd ask you, that's all.”
“John, you never tell me anything and I don't like to seem interfering; but what is going to happen between you and Brenda.”
“I don't know.”
“You never tell me anything,” repeated Mrs. Beaver. “And there are so many rumours going round.
Is there going to be a divorce?”
“I don't know.”
Mrs. Beaver sighed.
“Well I must get back to work.
Where are you lunching?”
“Brat's.”
“Poor John.
By the way, I thought you were joining Brown's.”
“I haven't heard anything from them.
I don't know whether they've had an election yet.”
“Your father was a member.”
“I've an idea I shan't get in … anyway I couldn't really afford it.”
“I'm not happy about you, John.
I'm not sure that things are working out as well as I hoped about Christmas time.”
“There's my telephone.
Perhaps it's Margot.
She hasn't asked me to anything for weeks.”
But it was only Brenda.
“I'm afraid mother's got nothing for you at the shop,” he said.
“Oh well.
I expect something will turn up.
I could do with a little good luck just at the moment.”
“So could I.
Have you asked Allan about Brown's?”
“Yes, I did.
He says they elected about ten chaps last week.”
“Oh, does that mean I've been black balled?”
“I shouldn't know.
Gentlemen are so odd about their clubs.”
“I thought that you were going to make Allan and Reggie support me.”
“I asked them.
What does it matter anyway?
D'you want to come to Veronica's for the week-end?”
“I'm not sure that I do.”
“I'd like it.”
“It's a beastly little house — and I don't think Veronica likes me.
Who'll be there?”
“I shall be.”
“Yes … well, I'll let you know.”
“Am I seeing you this evening?”
“I'll let you know.”
“Oh dear,” said Brenda as she rang off.