merry irresponsible laugh of his. "Blue suits your complexion, Andy. It seems damned funny – but five hundred a year! Worth that, is it now, really? And he'd probably leave you anything else he has."
Silently-flitting Vivien was just behind Harry now. Andy saw her, Harry was unaware of her presence. She laid her finger on her lips, making a confidant of Andy, in her joy at a trick on her lover.
"Of course it – well, it sort of defines matters – ties you down, eh?" Harry's laugh broke out again. "Andy, old boy, you'll look infernally funny, pricing joints to old Dove or Miss Pink! Oh, I say, I don't think you can do it, Andy!"
"Don't you, Harry?" Andy's tone was eager, beseeching, full of hope.
"But I suppose you ought." Harry tried to be grave, and chuckled again. "You'd look it uncommon well, you know. You'd soon develop the figure. Old Jack never has – doesn't look as if his own steaks did him any good. But you – we'd send you to Smithfield in no time!"
"What are you two talking about?" asked Vivien suddenly.
"Oh, there you are at last! Why, the funniest thing! Old Andy here wants to be a butcher."
"I don't want – " Andy began.
"A butcher! What nonsense you do talk sometimes, Harry!" She stood by Harry's side, so happy in him, so friendly to Andy.
"Fact!" said Harry, and acquainted her with the situation.
Vivien blushed red. "I – I'm very sorry I said what – what I did to you. You remember?"
"Oh yes, I remember," said Andy.
"Of course I – I never knew – I never thought – Of course, somebody must – Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Hayes!"
Harry raised his brows in humorous astonishment. "All this is a secret to me."
"I – I told Mr. Hayes I didn't like – well – places where they sold meat – raw meat, Harry."
"What do you think really, Harry?" Andy asked.
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Your choice, old man," he said. "You've looked at all sides of it, of course. It's getting latish, Vivien."
Andy would almost rather have had the verdict which he feared. "Your choice, old man" – and a shrug of the shoulders. Yet his loyalty intervened to tell him that Harry was right. It was his choice, and must be. He found Vivien's eyes on him – those distant, considering eyes.
"I suppose you couldn't give me an opinion, Miss Wellgood?" he asked, mustering a smile with some difficulty.
Vivien's lips drooped; her eyes grew rather sad and distinctly remote. She gave no judgment; she merely uttered a regret – a regret in which social and personal prejudice (it could not be acquitted of that) struggled with kindliness for Andy.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
