The Man in the Brown Suit - Agatha Christie [70]
I could keep you here for months and no one would ever know! How some words please one!
‘You did quite right,’ I said quietly. ‘And I shall not send word to anyone. A day or so more anxiety doesn’t make much difference. It’s not as though they were my own people. They’re only acquaintances really–even Suzanne. And whoever wrote that note must have known–a great deal! It was not the work of an outsider.’
I managed to mention the note this time without blushing at all.
‘If you would be guided by me–’ he said, hesitating.
‘I don’t expect I shall be,’ I answered candidly. ‘But there’s no harm in hearing.’
‘Do you always do what you like, Miss Beddingfeld?’
‘Usually,’ I replied cautiously. To anyone else I would have said ‘Always.’
‘I pity your husband,’ he said unexpectedly.
‘You needn’t,’ I retorted. ‘I shouldn’t dream of marrying anyone unless I was madly in love with him. And of course there is really nothing a woman enjoys so much as doing all the things she doesn’t like for the sake of someone she does like. And the more self-willed she is, the more she likes it.’
‘I’m afraid I disagree with you. The boot is on the other leg as a rule.’ He spoke with a slight sneer.
‘Exactly,’ I cried eagerly. ‘And that’s why there are so many unhappy marriages. It’s all the fault of the men. Either they give way to their women–and then the women despise them–or else they are utterly selfish, insist on their own way and never say “thank you”. Successful husbands make their wives do just what they want, and then make a frightful fuss of them for doing it. Women like to be mastered, but they hate not to have their sacrifices appreciated. On the other hand, men don’t really appreciate women who are nice to them all the time. When I am married, I shall be a devil most of the time, but every now and then, when my husband least expects it, I shall show him what a perfect angel I can be.’
Harry laughed outright.
‘What a cat-and-dog life you will lead!’
‘Lovers always fight,’ I assured him. ‘Because they don’t understand each other. And by the time they do understand each other they aren’t in love any more.’
‘Does the reverse hold true? Are people who fight each other always lovers?’
‘I–I don’t know,’ I said, momentarily confused.
He turned away to the fireplace.
‘Like some more soup?’ he asked in a casual tone.
‘Yes, please. I’m so hungry that I would eat a hippopotamus.’
‘That’s good.’
He busied himself with the fire, I watched.
‘When I can get off the couch, I’ll cook for you,’ I promised.
‘I don’t suppose you know anything about cooking.’
‘I can warm up things out of tins as well as you can,’ I retorted, pointing to a row of tins on the mantelpiece.
‘Touché,’ he said and laughed.
His whole face changed when he laughed. It became boyish, happy–a different personality.
I enjoyed my soup. As I ate it I reminded him that he had not, after all, tendered me his advice.
‘Ah, yes, what I was going to say was this. If I were you I would stay quietly perdu here until you are quite strong again. Your enemies will believe you dead. They will hardly be surprised at not finding the body. It would have been dashed to pieces on the rocks and carried down with the torrent.’
I shivered.
‘Once you are completely restored to health, you can journey quietly on to Beira and get a boat to take you back to England.’
‘That would be very tame,’ I objected scornfully.
‘There speaks a foolish schoolgirl.’
‘I’m not a foolish schoolgirl,’ I cried indignantly. ‘I’m a woman.’
He looked at me with an expression I could not fathom, as I sat up flushed and excited.
‘God help me, so you are,’ he muttered and went abruptly out.
My recovery was rapid. The two injuries I had sustained were a knock on the head and a badly wrenched arm. The latter was the most serious and, to begin with, my rescuer had believed it to be actually broken. A careful examination, however, convinced him that it was not so, and although it was very painful I was recovering the