The Young Intruder Read Online Free Page A

coffee just as much.”
    “Well, there is plenty of coffee here, if you’re sure.”
    “Quite sure,” said Alison firmly.
    Peter had been watching this exchange, with amusement at the corners of his mobile mouth. He said:
    “My dear child, if you want tea, you have it.” And he rang the bell.
    “But I don’t want to be a bother,” said Alison.
    “How are you being a bother? We ring for Nora, and ask her to make you some tea.” He waited a moment, and Nora appeared with a bright smile. “Tea for Miss Vale, please, Nora,” he said.
    “Tea for Miss Vale? Certainly, sir,” and she disappeared.
    Peter said:
    “Now, I’m going to my office, because things will have piled up for me while I’ve been in Lisbon. Can you entertain yourself to-day, Alison, in this overpowering London?”
    “Of course. Please don’t bother about me at all—I shall feel an interloper, if you do.”
    “You mustn’t feel that. Come over here and choose what you want for breakfast—and enjoy your tea when you get it. And now I must be off. Goodbye. Goodbye, Priscilla.”
    He drove himself to his offices in the City, and was soon immersed in his work. He gave a few passing thoughts to Alison, hoping that she would not feel too lost and lonely, and hoping, too, that she and Douglas would prove to be good company for each other. In the middle of the morning, Lydia telephoned him.
    “I wondered if you were back yet,” she said.
    “I promised to telephone you,” he replied. “I was going to, but this is my first morning in the office.”
    “Your journey was successful?”
    “Very, thank you. Are you intending to be kind, and have lunch with me?”
    “I was hoping you’d ask me,” she admitted, and they arranged to meet later. When Peter met her, and they walked into the restaurant together, she received her usual quota of interested and curious glances; for Lydia was striking, and she wore the latest and most striking fashions. There was nothing pretty or appealing about Lydia. She was soign é e, confident, glamorous, and so highly polished in every detail that she gave an impression of hardness. Nobody knew if her hair had always been auburn, but auburn it certainly was now, a rich, dark-red shade that owed a great deal to her coiffeur. The dark green hat and dress, worn with a soft mink jacket, were designed to set off this dark rich auburn; just as the very high heels of her shoes were designed to give her more height.
    She had known Peter for two years. She had met him at a party to celebrate a successful theatrical first night, and, taking note of his handsome appearance, had thought he must be an actor. She studied him deliberately, and decided that he would make an excellent adjunct to her own striking qualities. They would look a very handsome pair, and she would get to know him; and if, as was probably the case, he was still trying to get to the top, she might be able to help him.
    This somewhat smug decision had to be speedily altered, however. Getting to know him was the not simple process she had imagined. He was not an actor, he did not need her help, he did not even seem attracted to her; and her original admiration of his appearance changed to an admiration of his whole personality. She was intrigued by his indifference, and determined to overcome it. She found that he was at most first nights, and was on good terms with producers, stars, and designers. He was at the important concerts, and was on the same good terms with conductors and distinguished artists. She arranged to be at the same parties, the same plays, the same concerts. By meeting him everywhere, she established an acquaintanceship that slowly, by dint of much perseverance on her part, had developed into friendship; and this friendship, she was determined, was to develop into something much more. She wanted to marry him.
    They sat opposite each other at a small table for two.
    “You know,” said Lydia, “I’ve been consumed with curiosity about your