Eleven
E VENING AT THE G OLDEN P ALM
IM olly rearranged a few of the table decorations in the dining room, removed an extra knife, straightened a fork, reseta glass or two, stood back to look at the effect and then walked out on to the terrace outside. There was no one aboutjust at present and she strolled to the far corner and stood by the balustrade. Soon another evening would begin.
Chattering¹, talking, drinking, all so gay and carefree, the sort of life she had longed for and, up to a few days ago, hadenjoyed so much. Now even Tim seemed anxious and worried. Natural, perhaps, that he should worry a little. It wasimportant that this venture of theirs should turn out all right. After all, he had sunk all he had in it.
But that, thought Molly, is not really what’s worrying him. It’s me. But I don’t see, said Molly to herself, why heshould worry about me. Because he did worry about her. That she was quite sure of. The questions he put, the quicknervous glance he shot at her from time to time. “But why?” thought Molly. “I’ve been very careful.” She summed upthings in her mind. She didn’t understand it really herself. She couldn’t remember when it had begun. She wasn’t evenvery sure what it was. She’d begun to be frightened of people. She didn’t know why. What could they do to her? Whatshould they want to do to her?
She nodded her head, then started violently as a hand touched her arm. She spun² round to find Gregory Dyson,slightly taken aback, looking apologetic.
“Ever so sorry. Did I startle you, little girl?”
Molly hated being called “little girl.” She said quickly and brightly: “I didn’t hear you coming, Mr. Dyson, so itmade me jump.”
“Mr. Dyson? We’re very formal tonight. Aren’t we all one great happy family here? Ed and me and Lucky andEvelyn and you and Tim and Esther Walters and old Rafiel. All the lot of us one happy family.”
“He’s had plenty to drink already,” thought Molly. She smiled at him pleasantly.
“Oh! I come over the heavy hostess sometimes,” she said, lightly. “Tim and I think it’s more polite not to be toohandy with Christian³ names.”
“Aw! we don’t want any of that stuffed-shirt business. Now then, Molly my lovely, have a drink with me.”
“Ask me later,” said Molly. “I have a few things to get on with.”

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