“Now he's taken against me.
It isn't my fault he can't get in to Brown's.
As a matter of fact I believe Reggie did try to help.”
Jenny Abdul Akbar was in the room with her.
She came across every morning now in her dressing gown and they read the newspaper together.
The dressing gown was of striped Berber silk.
“Let's go and have a cosy lunch at the Ritz,” she said.
“The Ritz isn't cosy at lunch time and it costs eight and six.
I daren't cash a cheque for three weeks, Jenny.
The lawyers are so disagreeable.
I've never been like this before.”
“What wouldn't I do to Tony?
Leaving you stranded like this.”
“Oh, what's the good of knocking Tony?
I don't suppose he's having a packet of fun himself in Brazil or wherever it is.”
“I hear they are putting in bathrooms at Hetton — while you are practically starving.
And he hasn't even gone to Mrs. Beaver for them.”
“Yes, I do think that was mean.”
Presently Jenny went back to dress. Brenda telephoned to a delicatessen store round the corner for some sandwiches.
She would spend that day in bed, as she spent two or three days a week at this time.
Perhaps, if Allan was making a speech somewhere, as he usually was, Marjorie would have her to dinner.
The Helm-Hubbards had a supper party that night but Beaver had not been asked.
“If I went there without him it would be a major bust-up … Come to think of it, Marjorie's probably going.
Well I can always have sandwiches for dinner here.
They make all kinds.
Thank God for the little shop round the corner.”
She was reading a biography of Thiers that had lately appeared; it was very long and would keep her going well into the night.
At one o'clock Jenny came in to say goodbye (she had a latch key of Brenda's) dressed for a cosy lunch.
“I got Polly and Souki,” she said.
“We're going to Daisy's joint.
I wish you were coming.”
“Me?
Oh, I'm all right,” said Brenda and she thought, `It might occur to her to sock a girl a meal once in a way.'
They walked for a fortnight, averaging about fifteen miles a day.
Sometimes they would do much more and sometimes much less; the Indian who went in front decided the camping places; they depended on water and evil spirits.
Dr. Messinger made a compass traverse of their route.
It gave him something to think about.
He took readings every hour from an aneroid.
In the evening, if they had halted early enough, he employed the last hours of daylight in elaborating a chart. `Dry water course, three deserted huts, stony ground …'
“We are now in the Amazon system of rivers,” he announced with satisfaction one day. “You see, the water is running South.”
But almost immediately they crossed a stream flowing in the opposite direction.
“Very curious,” said Dr. Messinger.
“A discovery of genuine scientific value.”
Next day they waded through four streams at intervals of two miles, running alternately North and South.
The chart began to have a mythical appearance.
“Is there a name for any of these streams,” he asked Rosa.
“Macushi people called him Waurupang.”
“No, not river where we first camped: These rivers.”
“Yes, Waurupang.”
“This river here.”