Read Then She Fled Me for Free Online Page B

shore and catch the bus. ”
    Miss Dearlove suppressed a shudder. That dreadful road! And this child spoke of rowing across the lough as though it were as simple as hailing a taxi.
    Sarah brought the car to a standstill on the wide neglected sweep of the drive and Kathy came running out of the house. Miss Dearlove blinked. She had not been prepared for Kathy. In the fa ilin g light of late afternoon, with mist already rising from the lough, the girl looked like some impossibly beautiful heroine of the romances she had read in her youth. With Kathy opening the car door and bidding her welcome in her gentle voice while her blue eyes smiled a shy greeting, the spell of the country fell upon her.
    “ Now I know I ’ m in Ireland, ” she said archly. “ You must be straight out of the ‘ Land of Heart ’ s Desire. ’ ‘ The wind blows out of the gates of the day, the wind blows over the lonely of heart ... ’ ”
    “ ‘... a nd the lonely of heart is withered away. ’ ” Kathy, who was well acquainted with W. B. Yeats, was pleased. It was seldom anyone gave her the opportunity of capping a quotation.
    “ You are fond of poetry? ” exclaimed Miss Dearlove, delighted. “ But of course you are with that dreamer ’ s face. You and I, my dear, are going to be great friends. ”
    It was an idea she clung to resolutely as the days passed. She followed Kathy about, read poetry with her and said she was going to describe her exactly in one of her wee tales for little people. To be fair, Kathy did not discourage her. She enjoyed Miss Dearlove ’ s adulation with an innocent pleasure which made Sarah smile, and even when later their guest ’ s gushing archness began to pall, she was too gentle to snub.
    But the rest of the family found Miss Dearlove something of a trial. She was always with them, asking questions , taking notes, begging to be allowed to help. “ You mustn ’ t treat me as a guest, ” was her frequent cry. “ I don ’ t want to cause the teeniest bit of extra trouble. Just think of me as one of yourselves. ” She even invaded the kitchen and talked to Nonie with what she fondly imagined to be an Irish brogue, until Nonie observed with perfect politeness but some surprise:
    “ I ’ m very sorry, miss, but I ’ m not after understanding a word you ’ r e saying. ”
    The evenings were the worst part of the day, when they were all gathered together in the snug and Miss Dearlove chattered brightly about her work, her flat in Streatham and her friend Miss Pringle, who had a job as librarian. They became very tired of Miss Pringle. She was quoted on every possible occasion and Miss Dearlove seemed to have a great respect for her opinions.
    “ She thought of joining me on this little holiday, you know, but it wouldn ’ t have done, ” she told them. “ Dear Edith is the teeniest bit set in her ways—she ’ s older than I, you know—and—well, she ’ s very British, if you know what I mean. ”
    “ Punctual for meals and plenty of hot water, ” said Sarah, grinning. “ I ’ m afraid our home comforts aren ’ t like that. ”
    “ Oh, but my dear little Sarah, don ’ t think for one moment ... Of course, if one could know when the bath would be hot ... or if one k new lunch would be at tw o o ’ clock or even three But, there, it ’ s so typical, isn ’ t it? ”
    “ Typical of what? ”
    “ The delightful Irish. Do you know ” —Miss Dearlove looked roguish— “ I quite expected there would be pigs in the k itchen .”
    “ Did you, Miss Dearlove? ” said Sarah blankly. “ I hope you weren ’ t disappointed. ”
    “ She ’ s so determined to make the best of us, ” she complained to her aunt. “ Aunt Em, I think she ’ s terrible. ”
    “ Not terrible, dear, ” her aunt said tolerantly. “ Misguided in some ways, perhaps. ” She began to look indignant despite her charitable intentions. “ I must say I wish she would stop alluding to us as old maiden ladies. I am not