Two
G riselda is a very irritating woman. On leaving the luncheon¹ table, I had felt myself to be in a good mood forpreparing a really forceful address for the Church of England Men’s Society. Now I felt restless and disturbed.
Just when I was really settling down to it, Lettice Protheroe drifted in.
I use the word drifted advisedly. I have read novels in which young people are described as bursting with energy—joie de vivre, the magnificent vitality² of youth … Personally, all the young people I come across have the air of animalwraiths.
Lettice was particularly wraithlike³ this afternoon. She is a pretty girl, very tall and fair and completely vague. Shedrifted through the French window, absently pulled off the yellow beret she was wearing and murmured vaguely⁴ witha kind of faraway surprise: “Oh! it’s you.”
There is a path from Old Hall through the woods which comes out by our garden gate, so that most people comingfrom there come in at that gate and up to the study window instead of going a long way round by the road and comingto the front door. I was not surprised at Lettice coming in this way, but I did a little resent her attitude.
If you come to a Vicarage, you ought to be prepared to find a Vicar.
She came in and collapsed⁵ in a crumpled⁶ heap in one of my big armchairs. She plucked aimlessly at her hair,staring at the ceiling.
“Is Dennis anywhere about?”
“I haven’t seen him since lunch. I understood he was going to play tennis at your place.”
“Oh!” said Lettice. “I hope he isn’t. He won’t find anybody there.”
“He said you asked him.”
“I believe I did. Only that was Friday. And today’s Tuesday.”
“It’s Wednesday,” I said.
“Oh, how dreadful!” said Lettice. “That means that I’ve forgotten to go to lunch with some people for the thirdtime.”
Fortunately it didn’t seem to worry her much.
“Is Griselda anywhere about?”

分享到：