in the ordinary sense, my dear Decima, I am not interested. It’s solely on your account – no, do let me make myself clear. It’s on your account that I want to put two questions to you. Of course if you choose you may refuse to answer them.’
Watchman cleared his throat, and pointed a finger at Decima.
‘Now in reference to this society –’
‘Dear me,’ interrupted Decima with a faint smile. ‘This green plot shall be our court, this furze-bush our witness-box; and we will do in action as we will do it before the judge.’
‘A vile paraphrase, and if we are to talk of midsummernight’s dreams, Decima –’
‘We certainly won’t do that,’ she said, turning very pink. ‘Pray continue your cross-examination, Mr Watchman.’
‘Thank you, my lord. First question: is this body – society, club, movement, or whatever it is – an incorporated company?’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means among other things that the books would have to be audited by a chartered accountant.’
‘Good Heavens, no. It’s simply grown up, largely owing to the efforts of Will Pomeroy and myself.’
‘So I supposed. You’ve a list of subscribing members.’
‘Three hundred and forty-five,’ said Decima proudly.
‘And the subscription?’
‘Ten bob. Are you thinking of joining us?’
‘Who collects the ten bobs?’
‘The treasurer.’
‘And secretary. Mr Legge?’
‘Yes. What are you driving at? What were you at last night, baiting Bob Legge?’
‘Wait a moment. Do any other sums of money pass through his hands?’
‘I don’t see why I should tell you these things,’ said Decima.
‘There’s no reason, but you have my assurance that I mean well.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘And you may be sure I shall regard this conversation as strictly confidential.’
‘All right,’ she said uneasily. ‘We’ve raised sums for different objects. We want to start a Left Book Club in Illington and there are one or two funds – Spanish, Czech and Austrian refugees and the fighting fund and so on.’
‘Yes. At the rate of how much a year. Three hundred for instance?’
‘About that. Quite that, I should think. We’ve some very generous supporters.’
‘Now look here, Decima. Did you inquire very carefully into this man Legge’s credentials?’
‘I – no. I mean, he’s perfectly sound. He’s secretary for several other things. Some philatelic society and a correspondence course, and he’s agent for one or two things.’
‘He’s been here ten months, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes. He’s not strong, touch of TB, I think, and some trouble with his ears. His doctor told him to come down here. He’s been very generous and subscribed to the movement himself.’
‘May I give you a word of advice? Have your books audited.’
‘Do you know Bob Legge? You can’t make veiled accusations –’
‘I have made no accusations.’
‘You’ve suggested that –’
‘That you should be business-like,’ said Watchman. ‘That’s all.’
‘Do you know this man? You must tell me.’
There was a very long silence and then Watchman said:
‘I’ve never known anybody of that name.’
‘Then I don’t understand,’ said Decima.
‘Let us say I’ve taken an unreasonable dislike to him.’
‘I’d already come to that conclusion. It was obvious last night.’
‘Well, think it over.’ He looked fixedly at her and then said suddenly:
‘Why won’t you marry Will Pomeroy?’
Decima turned very white and said: ‘That, at least is entirely my own business.’
‘Will you meet me here tonight?’
‘No.’
‘Do I no longer attract you, Decima?’
‘I’m afraid you don’t.’
‘Little liar, aren’t you?’
‘The impertinent lady-killer stuff,’ said Decima, ‘doesn’t wear very well. It has a way of looking merely cheap.’
‘You can’t insult me,’ said Watchman. ‘Tell me this. Am I your only experiment?’
‘I don’t want to start any discussion of this sort. The thing’s at an end. It’s been dead a year.’
‘No. Not on my part. It could be revived; and very pleasantly. Why are you angry? Because I didn’t write?’
‘Good Lord, no!’ ejaculated Decima.
‘Then why –’
He laid his hand over hers. As if unaware of his touch, her fingers plucked at the blades of grass beneath them.
‘Meet me here tonight,’ he repeated.
‘I’m meeting Will tonight at the Feathers.’
‘I’ll take you home.’
Decima turned on him.
‘Look here,’ she said, ‘we’d better get this straightened out. You’re not in the least in love with me, are you?’
‘I adore you.’
‘I dare say, but you don’t love me. Nor do I love you. A year ago I fell for you rather heavily and we know what happened. I can admit now that I was – well, infatuated. I can even admit that what I said just then wasn’t true. For about two months I did mind your not writing. I minded damnably. Then I recovered in one bounce. I don’t want any recrudescence.’
‘How solemn,’ muttered Watchman. ‘How learned, and how young.’
‘It may seem solemn and young to you. Don’t flatter yourself I’m the victim of remorse. I’m not. One has to go through with these things, I’ve decided. But don’t let’s blow on the ashes.’
‘We wouldn’t have to blow very hard.’
‘Perhaps not.’
‘You admit that, do you?’
‘Yes. But I don’t want to do it.’
‘Why? Because of Pomeroy?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to marry him, after all?’
‘I don’t know. He’s ridiculously class-conscious about sex. He’s completely uneducated in some ways, but – I don’t know. If he knew about last year he’d take it very badly, and I can’t marry him without telling him.’
‘Well,’ said Watchman suddenly, ‘don’t expect me to be chivalrous and decent. I imagine chivalry and decency don’t go with sex-education and freedom anyway. Don’t be a fool, Decima. You know you think it would be rather fun.’