It was three.
She heard the two young men go upstairs and to their respective rooms.
She waited.
She put on the light by her bedside so that when he opened the door he should be able to see.
She would pretend she was sleeping and then as he crept forward on tiptoe slowly open her eyes and smile at him.
She waited.
In the silent night she heard him get into bed and switch off the light.
She stared straight in front of her for a minute, then with a shrug of the shoulders opened a drawer by her bedside and from a little bottle took a couple of sleeping-tablets.
‘If I don’t sleep I shall go mad.’
15.
JULIA did not wake till after eleven.
Among her letters was one that had not come by post.
She recognized Tom’s neat, commercial hand and tore it open.
It contained nothing but the four pounds and the ten-shilling note.
She felt slightly sick.
She did not quite know what she had expected him to reply to her condescending letter and the humiliating present.
It had not occurred to her that he would return it.
She was troubled, she had wanted to hurt his feelings, but she had a fear now that she had gone too far.
‘Anyhow I hope he tipped the servants,’ she muttered to reassure herself.
She shrugged her shoulders.
‘He’ll come round. It won’t hurt him to discover that I’m not all milk and honey.’
But she remained thoughtful throughout the day.
When she got to the theatre a parcel was waiting for her.
As soon as she looked at the address she knew what it contained.
Evie asked if she should open it.
‘No.’
But the moment she was alone she opened it herself.
There were the cuff-links and the waistcoat buttons, the pearl studs, the wrist-watch and the cigarette-case of which Tom was so proud.
All the presents she had ever given him.
But no letter.
Not a word of explanation.
Her heart sank and she noticed that she was trembling.
‘What a damned fool I was!
Why didn’t I keep my temper?’
Her heart now beat painfully.
She couldn’t go on the stage with that anguish gnawing at her vitals, she would give a frightful performance; at whatever cost she must speak to him.
There was a telephone in his house and an extension to his room.
She rang him.
Fortunately he was in.
‘Tom.’
‘Yes?’
He had paused for a moment before answering and his voice was peevish.
‘What does this mean?
Why have you sent me all those things?’
‘Did you get the notes this morning?’
‘Yes.
I couldn’t make head or tail of it.
Have I offended you?’
‘Oh no,’ he answered.
‘I like being treated like a kept boy.