Karen was put inside she found it superbly comfortable. The springing of the seats was luxuriously soft and it was like gliding on a bed of feathers.
“A new car,” she murmured softly. “Very elegant.”
Paul shrugged and slid behind the wheel, his thigh brushing hers for a moment, causing Karen to shiver slightly.
“I’m glad you like it. It suits me. It’s good for acceleration purposes which is what I need for some of the roads I have to cover.”
“It makes my old rattletrap seem very old and outmoded. But I like the old bus and it serves its purpose. I don’t use it such a lot.” Karen grimaced.
Paul glanced swiftly at her. “But you could afford a new one, couldn’t you?” It was a statement rather than a question.
Karen half smiled. “Of course,” she admitted easily. “But I don’t want one just at the moment. Oh, don’t worry, honey, I’m not a pauper yet, not by any means. Sorry to disappoint you.”
Paul flushed. “Why say something like that?” he muttered, “I don’t want to see you without means. Good heavens, I would be quite willing to help you if ever you needed money, surely you know that?”
Karen’s eyes widened. “Do I? Why should you imagine I would come to you for anything?”
Paul looked amused. “Well, haven’t you done just that thing?”
Karen flushed. “Very clever,” she said, annoyed with herself for being so rash. “Come on, let’s go.”
Paul shrugged and drove out into the stream of traffic.
Martin Textile Designs stood in a by-road off Great Portland Street. It was a tall, imposing building, although the basement and first floor were merely warehouses for another company. Lewis Martin’s domain occupied the upper floors with Lewis’s office being at the top. Karen had a small office of her own there, but she seldom used it, preferring to work at home.
Paul drew the large automobile to a halt at the entrance and said:
“I guess this is it,” in a lazy voice.
“Yes. Thank you for the lift,” said Karen politely, and made to get out.
“I’ll ring you as soon as I have any information,” said Paul, nodding.
Karen inclined her head and slid out on to the pavement.
“Thank you for lunch,” she said, rather sardonically. “I’m sorry I had to drag you away from your business.”
“It was a pleasure,” replied Paul, just as mockingly. “Be good,” and he put the car into gear and moved swiftly away before Karen could make some cutting retort.
Fuming, Karen walked into the building and entering the lift pressed the button for the fourth floor. As the lift went on its way she lit a cigarette and drew deeply on it. He was so assured, so confident and oh! so detached. She felt quite angry and she longed to be able to do something to shatter his complacency. How calmly he had discussed Ruth and his forthcoming marriage. How amused he had been at her obvious curiosity. Would he tell Ruth about it? Maybe laugh with her about Karen’s forced need of his help? She felt as though something shrivelled up inside her. To think of them together, discussing her, was disgusting and depressing. How aloof he seemed from the rigours of a disastrous love affair. How composed about his life with Ruth. With Karen he had had sometimes to bend his will to hers. With Ruth he would hold the upper hand and being the feminine creature she apparently was, she would enjoy letting him be the master. They would have no fierce arguments or even differences of opinion. She would be completely attuned to his every desire and act likewise. But surely, thought Karen desperately, that would become boring in time to a man like Paul. Variety was the spice of life and he needed someone to oppose him at times. At least so she had thought. Of course, if he got bored, he could always find himself another woman, and probably Ruth would not object too strongly if he kept it quiet. Karen stamped on the butt of her cigarette and ground it into the flooring with her heel. The lift reached the fourth floor. She had arrived.
She entered the outer office of Lewis’s domain and asked his secretary if he was free.
“Yes, Miss Stacey,” she replied, smiling. “Go right in. He is expecting you.”
Karen lightly tapped on Lewis’s door and then entered his office. It was not a large office but the wide windows gave the room plenty of light, giving an impression of space. Lewis himself was seated at his desk, studying some papers, and he looked up as she entered, a smile spreading over his face. He was a man of medium height, slimly built, with greying blond hair. He spent his leisure hours reading and writing articles for trade papers and consequently his eyes behind their horn-rimmed spectacles looked rather tired. But he was obviously pleased to see her, and she closed the door and advanced into the room, sinking down into a low armchair opposite him.
Perceptively, he said: “You look rather disturbed. What’s been going on?”
Karen flung herself back in the chair, helping herself to another cigarette. As she lit the cigarette and looked at Lewis, she thought reflectively that the contrast between Paul and Lewis was very considerable. Not only in looks but in manner.
“Let me relax for a moment and then I’ll tell you,” she said, managing a rather grim smile.
After drawing on her cigarette for about five minutes, during which time Lewis studied his papers and considerately ignored her, she said:
“I’ve just had lunch with my esteemed ex-husband.”
A strange expression flitted across Lewis’s face for a moment and then he said:
“You must be joking.”
“No, I’m not,” she replied smoothly. “Dear Paul himself.”
Lewis compressed his rather thin lips.
“And what was this in aid of?” He shrugged his slim shoulders.
“I … I asked him to see me, have lunch with me,” answered Karen, half amused at Lewis’s concern. He could see no reason, until she told him, for the meeting and he was getting quite annoyed.
His eyebrows ascended. “You asked him to meet you. But why? Good lord, Karen, you aren’t trying to get him back, are you?”
Karen looked away from his gaze. She wondered what he would think if he could have read her thoughts a few moments ago. He would be bound to be furious. After all, he had thought he was acting in her best interests when he helped her to avoid seeing Paul.
Avoiding this question, she said: “Mother asked me to see him. Simon, his brother Simon that is, is going out with Sandra, and Sandra refuses to give him up. I had to appeal to Paul to prevent it going any further.”
“Sandra!” exclaimed Lewis. “But Simon Frazer is married. Is she completely mad? Good heavens, he’s nothing but a scoundrel.”
“Precisely … but you know how unmanageable Sandra is. She’s gradually becoming completely uncontrollable. Besides. Mother still dotes on her and indulges her in everything. Even now, I expect she’s worried to death in case Sandra finds out she’s been meddling.”
Lewis
