"I shall work all night and be
invisible all day."
The Westmacotes, as Alicia said, didn't greatly care for authors,
though they sat up and took polite notice of this one. (One owed
that to one's self-respect.) Only Miss Emmeline paid more than
passing attention to him, though her interest really centered in Mr.
Nicholas Jelnik, who was dining with us that night, as was Doctor
Richard Geddes.
Mr. Jelnik's presence had the effect of lightening The Author's
gloom. His eyes brightened, his dejection changed into alertness,
and there began that subtle game of under-the-surface thrust and
parry that seemed inevitable when the two met. Mr. Westmacote
listened with quiet enjoyment. His dinner was to his taste, Hynds
House more than came up to his expectations, Alicia was Cinderella
after the fairy's wand had passed over her, _I_ had ceased to be a
mere person and become a personage; and he found here such men as
Doctor Geddes, The Author, and Nicholas Jelnik. The Head smiled at
his wife, and was at peace with the world.
Miss Emmeline had already discovered the Lowestoft and Spode pieces
in our built-in cupboards; that there were two perfect apostle jugs
in the cabinet in the hall: that our Chelsea figures were lovelier
than any she had heretofore seen; and that Hynds House, in which
everything was genuine, had an atmosphere that appealed to her soul,
or maybe matched her clear-green aura.
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