Man and Maid

The sudden idea of this caused me a nasty twinge--But no, her third

finger has no ring on it.--I grew calmer again--.

"I feel you have a hundred thousand interesting things to say if you

would only talk!" I blurted out at last.

"I am not here to talk, Sir Nicholas--I am here to do your typing."

"Does that make a complete barrier?--Won't you be friends with me?"

Burton came into the room at that moment--and while he was there she

slipped off to her typing without answering me. Burton has arranged a

place for her in his room, which is next to mine, so that I shall not be

disturbed by the noise of her machine clicking.

"Miss Sharp must lunch with me"--I said.

Burton coughed as he answered.

"Very good, Sir Nicholas."

That meant that he did not approve of this arrangement--why?--Really

these old servants are unsupportable.

The antediluvian waiters come in to lay the table presently, and I

ordered peaches and grapes and some very special chablis--I felt

exultant at my having manoeuvred that Miss Sharp should eat with me!

She came in when all was ready with her usual serene calm--and took her

place at right angles to me.

Her hands are not nearly so red to-day, and their movements when she

began to eat pleased me--her wrists are tiny, and everything she does is

dainty.

She did not peck her food like a bird, as very slight people sometimes

do--and she was entirely at ease--it was I who was nervous--.

"Won't you take off your glasses," I suggested--but she declined--.

"Of what use--I can see with them on."

This disconcerted me.

The waiter poured out the chablis carefully. She took it casually

without a remark, but for an instant a cynical expression grew round her

mouth--What was she thinking of?--it is impossible to tell, not seeing

her eyes--but some cynical thought was certainly connected with the

wine--By the direction of her head she may have been reading the label

on the bottle--Does she know how much it cost and disapprove of that in

war time--or what?

We talked of French politics next,--that is, she answered everything I

said with intelligence, and then let the subject drop

immediately--Nothing could be more exasperating because I knew it was

deliberate and not that she is stupid, or could not keep up the most

profound conversation. She seemed to know the war situation very

well--Then I began about French literature--and at the end of the meal

had dragged out enough replies to my questions to know that she is an

exquisitely cultivated person--Oh! what a companion she would make if

only I could break down this wretched barrier of her reserve!