“I think I like you very much. You must give me time to get used to you.”
“Then it’s yes?” he interrupted.
“I suppose so.”
XII
She knew him very little then, and now, though they had been married for nearly two years, she knew him just a little more. At first she had been touched by his kindness and flattered, though surprised, by his passion. He was extremely considerate; he was very attentive to her comfort. He was constantly giving her little presents. And he was always exceedingly polite. He rose to his feet when she entered a room, he gave her his hand to help her out of a car, if he chanced to meet her in the street he took off his hat, he opened the door for her when she left a room, he never came into her bedroom or her boudoir without a knock. He treated her not as Kitty had seen most men treat their wives. It was pleasing and yet a trifle comic. Their relations didn’t draw her closer to him. He was passionate then, fierce, oddly hysterical too, and sentimental.
He was really emotional. His self-control was due to shyness or to long training, she did not know which. When there was a party and every one started singing Walter could never make himself join in. He sat there smiling to show that he was pleased and amused, but his smile was forced: it was more like a sarcastic grin, and you could not help feeling that he thought all those people enjoying themselves a pack of fools. He could not make himself play the round games which Kitty with her high spirits liked so much. On their journey out to China he had absolutely refused to put on fancy dress when everyone else was wearing it.
Kitty was lively; she was willing to chatter all day long and she laughed easily. His silence disconcerted her. If it was raining and she said: “It’s raining cats and dogs,” she expected him something to say. But he remained silent. Sometimes it was awful.
“I said it was raining cats and dogs,” she repeated.
“I heard you,” he answered, with his affectionate smile.
It showed that he had not meant to be offensive. He did not speak because he had nothing to say. But if nobody spoke unless he had something to say, Kitty reflected, with a smile, the human race would very soon lose the use of speech.
XIII
The fact was, of course, that he had no charm. That was why he was not popular, and she had not been long in Hong Kong before she discovered that he was not. She remained very vague about his work. She realized that to be the government bacteriologist was no great importance. He didn’t discuss that part of his life with her. Because she was willing to be interested in anything at first she had asked him about it. He put her off with a jest.
“It’s very dull and technical,” he said on another occasion. “And it’s extremely underpaid.”
He was very reserved. All she knew about his birth, his education, and his life before he met her, she had learnt by direct questioning. It was odd, the only thing that seemed to annoy him was a question. She understood that he did not care to reply not because he had anything to hide from her, but merely from a natural secretiveness. It bored him to talk about himself. It made him shy and uncomfortable. He did not know how to be open. He was fond of reading, but he read books which seemed to Kitty very dull. He never relaxed. He was fond of only two games: tennis and bridge.
She wondered why he had ever fallen in love with her. And yet it was quite certain that he loved her madly. He would do anything in the world to please her. He was like wax in her hands. She supposed he was clever, everyone seemed to think he was, but except very occasionally when he was with two or three people he liked and was in the mood, she had never found him entertaining. He did not precisely bore her, he left her indifferent.
XIV
Though Kitty had met his wife at various tea-parties she had been some weeks in Hong Kong before she saw Charles Townsend. She was introduced to him only when with her husband she went to dine at his house. Charles Townsend was Assistant Colonial Secretary and Kitty didn’t want to allow him to use her with the arrogance which she saw in Mrs. Townsend. The room in which they were received was spacious. It was a large party. They were the last to come and as they entered Chinese servants in uniform were handing round cocktails and olives. Mrs. Townsend greeted them in her casual fashion and looking at a list told Walter whom he was to take in to dinner.
Kitty saw a tall and very handsome man approaching them.
“This is my husband.”
“I have the privilege of sitting next to you,” he said.
She immediately felt at ease and the sense of hostility vanished from her bosom. Though his eyes were smiling she had seen in them a quick look of surprise. She understood it perfectly.
“I won’t be able to eat any dinner,” he said, “and if I know Dorothy the dinner’s damned good”.
“Why not?”
“Some one really had to warn me.”
“What about?”
“No one said a word. I didn’t know that I was going to meet a real beauty.”
“Now what should I say to that?”
“Nothing. Leave me to do the talking. And I’ll say it over and over again.”
When they were sitting side by side at table he told her that he had known Walter Fane ever since he came to the Colony.
“We play bridge together. He’s the best bridge player at the Club.”
She told Walter on the way home.
“That’s not saying very much, you know.”
“How does he play?”
“Not badly, but when he has bad cards he goes all to pieces.”
“Does he play as well as you?”
“I have no illusions about my play. I should describe myself as a very good player in the second class. Townsend thinks he’s in the first. He isn’t.”
“Don’t you like him?”
“I neither like him nor dislike him. I believe he’s not bad at his job and everyone says he’s a good sportsman. He doesn’t very much interest me.”
It was not the first time that Walter’s moderation had exasperated her. She asked herself why it was necessary to be so prudent: you either liked people or you didn’t. She had liked Charles Townsend very much. And she had not expected to. He was probably the most popular man in the Colony. It was supposed that the Colonial Secretary would retire soon and everyone hoped that Townsend would succeed him. He played tennis and polo and golf. He kept racing ponies. He was always ready to help. He put on no airs.[16] Kitty did not know why she had thought that he was snobbish: she had been extremely silly; you couldn’t accuse him of that.
She had enjoyed her evening. They had talked of the theatres in London, and of all the things she knew about; and later, when the men came into the drawing-room after dinner, he had strolled over and sat beside her again. Of course he had charm. That was what made him so pleasant.
He was tall, six foot two at least, she thought, and he had a beautiful figure. He was well-dressed, the best-dressed man in the room, and he wore his clothes well. His face was deeply sunburned, but the sun had not taken the healthy colour from his cheeks. She liked the little curly moustache which did not hide his full red lips. He had short black hair. But of course his eyes, under thick, bushy eyebrows, were his best feature: they were so very blue, and they had a laughing tenderness. No man with those blue eyes could hurt any one.
She knew that she had made an impression on him. When she shook hands with him to say good-bye, he gave her hand a pressure that she could not mistake.
“I hope we’ll see you again soon,” he said casually, but his eyes gave his words a meaning which she could not fail to understand.
“Hong Kong is very small, isn’t it?” she said.
XV
Nobody