The Burden BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

“Darling Baldy, I love your lectures, but I’ve always been hopelessly plain.”

“So you want to be an old maid?”

Laura flushed a little.

“No, of course I don’t. I just don’t think it’s likely that I shall marry.”

“Defeatism!” roared Mr. Baldock.

“No, indeed it isn’t. I just think it’s impossible that anyone should fall in love with me.”

“Men can fall in love with anything,” said Mr. Baldock rudely. “With hare lips, and acne, and prognathous jaws and with numb-skulls and cretins! Just think of half the married women you know! No, young Laura, you just don’t want to bother! You want to love-not to be loved-and I dare say you’ve got something there. To be loved is to carry a heavy burden.”

“You think I do love Shirley too much? That I am possessive?”

“No,” said Mr. Baldock slowly, “I don’t think you are possessive. I acquit you of that.”

“Then-can one love anyone too much?”

“Of course one can!” he roared. “One can do anything too much. Eat too much, drink too much, love too much…”

He quoted:

“I’ve known a thousand ways of love

And each one made the loved one rue.”

“Put that in your pipe, young Laura, and smoke it.”

2

Laura walked home, smiling to herself. As she entered the house, Ethel appeared from the back premises, and spoke in a confidential whisper:

“There’s a gentleman waiting for you-a Mr. Glyn-Edwards, quite a young gentleman. I put him in the drawing-room. Said he’d wait. He’s all right-not vacuums I mean, or hard luck stories.”

Laura smiled a little, but she trusted Ethel’s judgment.

Glyn-Edwards? She could not recall the name. Perhaps it was one of the young flying officers who had been billeted here during the war.

She went across the hall and into the drawing-room.

The young man who rose quickly as she came in was a complete stranger to her.

That, indeed, in the years to come, was to remain her feeling about Henry. He was a stranger. Never for one moment did he become anything else.

The young man was smiling, an eager, rather charming smile which suddedly wavered. He seemed taken aback.

“Miss Franklin?” he said. “But you’re not-” His smile suddenly widened again, confidently. “I expect she’s your sister.”

“You mean Shirley?”

“That’s it,” said Henry, with evident relief. “Shirley. I met her yesterday-at a tennis-party. My name’s Henry Glyn-Edwards.”

“Do sit down,” said Laura. “Shirley ought to be back soon. She went to tea at the vicarage. Won’t you have some sherry? Or would you rather have gin?”

Henry said he would prefer sherry.

They sat there talking. Henry’s manner was just right, it had that touch of diffidence that is disarming. A charm of manner that was too assured might have aroused antagonism. As it was, he talked easily and gaily, without awkwardness, but deferring to Laura in a pleasant well-bred manner.

“Are you staying in Bellbury?” Laura asked.

“Oh no. I’m staying with my aunt over at Endsmoor.”

Endsmoor was well over sixty miles away, the other side of Milchester. Laura felt a little surprised. Henry seemed to see that a certain amount of explanation was required.

“I went off with someone else’s tennis-racket yesterday,” he said. “Awfully stupid of me. So I thought I’d run over to return it and find my own. I managed to wangle some petrol.”

He looked at her blandly.

“Did you find your racket all right?”

“Oh yes,” said Henry. “Lucky, wasn’t it? I’m afraid I’m awfully vague about things. Over in France, you know, I was always losing my kit.”

He blinked disarmingly.

“So as I was over here,” he said, “I thought I’d look up Shirley.”

Was there, or was there not, some faint sign of embarrassment?

If there was, Laura liked him none the worse for it. Indeed, she preferred that to too much assurance.

This young man was likeable, eminently so. She felt the charm he exuded quite distinctly. What she could not account for was her own definite feeling of hostility.

Possessiveness again, Laura wondered? If Shirley had met Henry the day before, it seemed odd that she should not have mentioned him.

They continued to talk. It was now past seven. Henry was clearly not bound by conventional hours of calling. He was obviously remaining here until he saw Shirley. Laura wondered how much longer Shirley was going to be. She was usually home before this.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *