Page:The Painted Veil - Maugham - 1925.djvu/13

Rh “For God’s sake don’t do that,” he whispered irritably. “If we’re in for it we’re in for it. We shall just have to brazen it out.”

She looked for her handkerchief and knowing what she wanted he gave her her bag.

“Where’s your topee?”

“I left it downstairs.”

“Oh, my God!”

“I say, you must pull yourself together. It’s a hundred to one it wasn’t Walter. Why on earth should he come back at this hour? He never does come home in the middle of the day, does he?”

“Never.”

“I’ll bet you anything you like it was the amah.”

She gave him the shadow of a smile. His rich, caressing voice reassured her and she took his hand and afectionately pressed it. He gave her a moment to collect herself.

“Look here, we can’t stay here for ever,” he said then. “Do you feel up to going out on the verandah and having a look?”

“I don’t think I can stand.”

“Have you got any brandy in here?”

She shook her head. A frown for an instant darkened his brow, he was growing impatient, he did not quite know what to do. Suddenly she clutched his hand more tightly.

“Suppose he’s waiting there?”

He forced his lips to smile and his voice retained the gentle, persuasive tone the effect of which he was so fully conscious of.

“That’s not very likely. Have a little pluck,