Читать книгу The Three Lovers онлайн

65 страница из 80

"Oh, he went home." Monty had a soft voice, perfectly quiet and smooth; and he almost always raised his inflexion at the end of the sentence, as if he were inviting a response.

"He was drunk," said Amy.

"My dear Amy!" Monty cast a glance of pretended protest which included Patricia, but seemed also to associate her in his protest. "There are so many stages of drunkenness."

"A lot of the people were drunk last night. And not jollily drunk, either. They were all white and puffily drunk." Amy was persistent. She was determined—as ever—to speak the truth which was in her.

"How unpleasant," remarked Monty. "But you enjoyed yourself, didn't you, Miss Quin? I hope you'll come again when there is a sober party."

"I'd love to," cried Patricia, sparkling. She was happy again, the perplexities arising from her talk with Amy forgotten. "I thought it was a wonderful party."

Monty ran his eye over her, with the quick certainty of a connoisseur. She was fair, fresh, volatile, beautifully shaped; vain, and therefore to be reached by flattery; over-confident, perhaps, of her power to please; but unspoilt and capable of affording him interest and amusement. He had no interest at all in Amy. She was too crudely egotistical, and she was, besides, too set. Monty could have foretold her expressed opinion (not necessarily her true opinion, since she was often, as he knew, unaware of what she really thought) upon every matter that was likely to come up between them. Neither did she interest him physically: for that she was too hard, and although he supposed her to be sensual she appeared to Monty to lack both mystery and abandon. So, although he knew that he could more easily create an artificially-emotional situation with Amy, he gave all his interest to Patricia. There was more in the fresh little new girl, he decided, than in anybody he had recently met. He eyed her appreciatively, as a gourmet may eye a dainty dish. She was interesting. All she did, even if she did nothing but sit quite still upon that enormous cushion beside the gas fire, had grace and personality in it. Especially he noticed that impetuous mouth, which might betray weakness or instability or reckless bravado, but which could never, he was sure, be associated with tedium. He resolved upon a quick stroke. He saw that Amy and Jack were debating something which removed their attention from his own activities, and so he bent towards Patricia.