The Chain of Destiny. Бетти Нилс

but I think that is the easiest part; you see, the letters and cuttings are about a great many people—they’ll have to be sorted out.’

      ‘There is no hurry,’ declared Mrs van Beuck. ‘You seem to have accomplished a great deal in a week…’

      ‘Even on a Sunday,’ murmured the professor. ‘Do you prefer to have a free day in the week?’

      ‘Me?’ Suzannah spoke sharply, with a fine disregard for grammar. ‘I’m very happy—’

      He cut her short. ‘I’m sure you are; nevertheless, you should have time to yourself. I cannot imagine that my aunts will mind if you take a week or so longer with your sorting and indexing; I am equally sure that they would wish you to enjoy a certain amount of time to yourself.’

      Lady Manbrook was looking quite upset. ‘My dear child, how thoughtless of us—of course you must have some hours to yourself. What do you suggest, Guy?’

      He didn’t even look at Suzannah to see what she thought about it, which annoyed her. ‘Oh, a day off each week—most office workers and shop assistants have two days—and set hours of work each day; nine until lunchtime, and then four hours’ work between two o’clock and dinnertime, to suit herself.’

      Just as though I’m not here, thought Suzannah crossly. She shot him a speaking glance and met his cold eyes. ‘You are agreeable to that?’ he wanted to know.

      It was tempting to tell him that she wasn’t agreeable at all, but Lady Manbrook was still looking upset so she said in a colourless voice. ‘Thank you, Professor, yes, that will do very well,’ and then, because she felt peevish, ‘So kind of you to bother,’ she added waspishly.

      ‘I’m not a particularly kind man,’ he observed, ‘but I hope that I am a just one.’

      Maybe he was; he was also rude. She picked up the dance programmes and asked if the ladies would like to see them.

      The next hour passed quickly, with the ladies exclaiming over the charming little cards with their coloured pencils attached by still bright cords, most of them filled by scrawled initials, one or two woefully half-empty. ‘That would be Emily Wolferton,’ declared Lady Manbrook. ‘Such a haughty piece.’ She tossed the card down and added with satisfaction, ‘I always had partners,’ and her sister echoed,

      ‘And so did I. Here’s one—Phoebe’s grandmother—a nasty, ill-tempered girl she was too, always wanting something she hadn’t.’ She looked across at the professor, sitting impassively doing nothing. ‘I hope Phoebe isn’t ill-tempered, Guy?’

      ‘Oh, never, just as long as she gets what she wants,’ he replied idly.

      ‘And of course, she gets it,’ observed Mrs van Beuck. ‘William Davinish is too old to want any more than peace and quiet at all costs.’

      He made no reply to this, but said presently, ‘Perhaps Suzannah would like an hour or two to herself before dinner.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I must go presently…’

      ‘So soon, dear?’ asked Lady Manbrook.

      He looked at Suzannah. ‘I’m dining with Phoebe.’