Polly. Бетти Нилс

a dinner party.’ She poured herself another cup of coffee. ‘When he marries her I’ve made up my mind I’ll leave here, even if Bob isn’t back.’

      ‘Will he be away for long?’ asked Polly, which was another way of finding out when the Professor was going to get married.

      ‘Well, he thought three months, but there’s always the chance that it’ll be sooner than that, and Deirdre’s got some stupid idea about being married on Midsummer’s Day, although nothing is settled yet. I can’t think what Sam sees in her.’

      ‘Well,’ began Polly, ‘he must see something in her or he wouldn’t want to get married…’

      ‘Knowing Deirdre, I wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t settled the whole thing without him realising, although he did say she would be very suitable.’ She grinned suddenly. ‘I’m not at all suitable for Bob, but that really doesn’t make any difference, you know.’

      Polly didn’t know, but she nodded in an understanding sort of way and said regretfully that she would have to go back to her desk.

      She worked for the rest of the morning, had lunch with Diana and then went back again to her typewriter. If she kept at it for the rest of the day, she decided, she would be able to put the rest of the chapter on the Professor’s desk before she went to bed. She might even get the next one started, since she would have the house to herself that evening.

      Diana came looking for her around teatime. ‘You really must stop,’ she declared. ‘You’ve been working all day…come and have tea.’

      Polly went willingly enough; she was an active girl and she longed to take a long walk outside while the sun was still shining. ‘Well, that’s why I’m here,’ she explained reasonably. ‘Professor Gervis wants the book done just as quickly as possible.’

      She allowed herself half an hour and despite Diana’s grumbles went back once more to the typewriter. There was still a good bit to do and she was having at present to stop and look things up quite frequently; all the same, she had every intention of finishing the chapter before she went to bed. Deep in a learned comparison between Roman and Greek gods and goddesses, she didn’t hear the door open and Diana come in. At the girl’s gentle: ‘Hullo, how do I look?’ she glanced up, and instantly forgot these beings in an admiring contemplation of Diana, dressed for the evening. She really was a very pretty girl, and the softly pleated gauzy skirt and tiny beaded bodice merely served to make her doubly so.

      ‘Oh, very nice,’ said Polly, and meant it. ‘You look a dream. Do you always dress up when you go out in the evening?’