Just possibly, of course, Julian would come over and ask her to dance, but, as it seemed to be one of the evenings when Rosalie was quite willing to be gracious to her fiancé, the probability was slight.

So instead Alison did her best to simulate a profound interest in the colonel’s reminiscences and his description of what this famous restaurant was like in the days when he was a subaltern home on leave in the twenties.

It was not the liveliest way of spending an evening, but she was extremely touched when it was time to go and he said to her:

‘Good night. I hope I shall meet you again. You’re a very nice child, and the first young person I’ve met with any pretensions to manners since I came home.’

It comforted her a little for not having spoken again to Julian. And, in any case, as she told herself again when she got into bed that night, it was certainly not for her to expect any special notice from her cousin’s fiancé.

The summer crept on in ever increasing heat. Airless and aimless.

Uncle Theodore was on the Continent, and quite often Aunt Lydia and Rosalie went into the country for the week-end. Very occasionally they took Alison, but much more often she was left behind.

Sometimes she used to tell herself that she preferred it so. The big house might be incredibly empty and lonely when she was left there by herself, but Aunt Lydia had a way of making her feel still lonelier if she came to any of the smart house-parties.

Alison tried not to think too much about it because she was afraid of losing her sense of proportion where her aunt and Rosalie were concerned, but she felt pretty sure that the uppermost idea in Aunt Lydia ’s mind was that no one should be allowed to detract from Rosalie’s social success.

And once or twice Alison had shown distinct signs of achieving a certain little popularity of her own.

It was after this that the invitations, as interpreted by Aunt Lydia, showed an increasing tendency to include only herself and Rosalie.

There was no appeal, of course, any more than there had been over the question of getting a job. And so Alison had to resign herself as best she could to large slices of her own exclusive company.

One Saturday, when she was quite alone, the telephone bell rang.

Alison took off the receiver.

‘Hello.’ She sounded more listless than she knew.

‘Mr. Tyndrum speaking,’ came Julian’s voice from the other end of the wire. ‘Can you tell me if I left my cigarette-case at the house yesterday afternoon? I have an idea I put it down on a table in the library. It’s a gold one, with the initials "J.T." in one corner.’

‘I-I’ll go and see,’ Alison said.

‘Just a moment.’ His tone changed suddenly. ‘Who is that speaking?’

‘It’s Alison,’ she said, and then wondered the next moment if she ought to have said ‘Miss Earlston’.

He didn’t seem to think so, however, because he immediately repeated her name with some pleasure.

‘Alison! I thought you were away. Why aren’t you with your aunt and Rosalie in Sussex?’

‘I-wasn’t asked.’

‘Weren’t you?’ The sudden gentleness in his voice made Alison bite her lip.

‘I’ll go and see if your case is there, if you’ll just hold on a minute.’

‘All right.’

She went into the library thinking, ‘And I didn’t even know he was here yesterday. It must have been when I went to fetch Aunt Lydia ’s rings from the jeweller’s.’

The case was there. She picked it up and held it rather close against her as she went back to the phone.

‘Hello. Your case is all right, I have it here.’ She suddenly pressed it absurdly against her cheek.

‘That’s good. I shouldn’t like to lose it. May I call in for it this afternoon, Alison?’

‘Yes-of course.’

‘Will you give me tea if I come about half past four? Or do the Victorian proprieties forbid it?’ She knew he was smiling.

‘I’ll have tea here for you at half past four.’

‘Good!’

When he had rung off, she stood there for a moment with the receiver still in her hand. Was it wicked to feel so happy at the mere thought of having him all to herself for perhaps a whole hour?

Of course it was. But what could she do about it?

He arrived punctually at half past four, and came into the library, where she was sitting rather solemnly behind her aunt’s small tea-table.

‘Well, Alison, this is very pleasant.’ He dropped into a chair opposite, and smiled at her as though he meant that.

‘Yes,’ said Alison. ‘Here is your cigarette-case.’ She handed it to him.

‘Thank you.’ He took it. ‘Why, it’s quite warm. Have you been holding it in case it should run away?’

‘No.’ She smiled gravely.

‘What then?’

‘I was just-holding it,’ she said lamely.

Alison was intent on pouring out the tea, so she missed the puzzled little look he gave her as he slipped the case into his pocket.

‘What have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last?’ he wanted to know.

‘Nothing very much,’ replied Alison with perfect truth.

‘Nothing? I thought you had become quite a popular young person-made your own set and that sort of thing. I understood that was why you were so difficult to get hold of.’

‘Did you?’ Alison slowly bit a piece of bread and butter, and wondered with sudden frightened misery if he were laughing at her.

Or perhaps, as he was without Rosalie for the week-end, he didn’t mind making up to her.

That thought hurt even more.

She sought for a careless conversational opening, but none presented itself.

‘Alison.’ He put down his cup. ‘Are your duties as a hostess weighing very heavily upon you-or is it that I have offended you over something?’

‘No,’ she said, not very lucidly.

‘Which question are you answering?’ he asked, smiling a little.

‘Both,’ replied Alison desperately.

‘I see.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘So that you are perfectly at your ease, both as a hostess and as a friend?’

‘I-I don’t think you’re a friend,’ Alison was horrified to hear herself stammer.

‘Don’t you?’ He was completely serious now. ‘What have I done to forfeit your friendship-or did I never have it?’

Dead silence.

‘I wish you would answer me, Alison. I’m really rather disturbed about this. Didn’t you look on me as a friend that first evening?’

‘I didn’t understand then,’ Alison got out at last in a very low voice.

‘What didn’t you understand?’

She was aware of faint surprise at the back of her mind for the extreme patience of anyone who was usually so arrogantly impatient.

‘I didn’t understand why you did it. I do now.’

There was silence again for a moment, and then he said with an odd little note in his voice, ‘Why do you suppose I did it?’

If she could have thought of any lie in the world, she would have told it then. But she couldn’t. She could only think of the literal truth. And she said it.

‘You’d quarrelled with Rosalie, and you wanted to make her jealous by paying attention to another girl.’

This time the silence was a long one-and Alison found herself wishing wildly that she could faint.

Then he spoke at last, gravely and quietly.

‘Alison, I do most earnestly beg your pardon, because I think there was a little of that feeing at the back of my mind. But do please believe that my chief thought was something quite different.’

She couldn’t quite have said why, but she felt most exquisite relief at the way he put it. Somehow, his owning to having felt like that was better than a million protestations that no such thought had entered his mind.

‘What-what was your chief thought, then?’ she asked rather timidly.

‘I was so terribly sorry that you had been made to feel lonely and humiliated and-No, don’t look like that,’ he said, as Alison winced angrily.

‘I don’t want to be pitied as a sort of oddity,’ muttered Alison. She knew that must sound terribly ungracious, but she couldn’t help it.