A Handful of Dust

“You just wait a few weeks,” he had said. “Brenda will come back. She’ll soon get sick of Beaver.”

“But I don’t want her back.”

“I know just how you feel, but it doesn’t do to be medieval about it. If Brenda hadn’t been upset at John’s death this need never have come to a crisis. Why last year Marjorie was going everywhere with that ass Robin Beaseley. She was mad about him at the time, but I pretended not to notice and it all blew over. If I were you I should refuse to recognize that anything has happened.”

Marjorie had said, “Of course Brenda doesn’t love Beaver. How could she?… And if she thinks she does at the moment, I think it’s your duty to prevent her making a fool of herself. You must refuse to be divorced—anyway until she has found someone more reasonable.”

Tony had been living with Jock for the last three weeks. Mrs. Rattery had gone to California and he was grateful for company. They dined together most evenings. They had given up going to Brat’s; so had Beaver; they were afraid of meeting each other. Instead Tony and Jock went to Brown’s, where Beaver was not a member. Beaver was continually with Brenda nowadays, at one of half a dozen houses.

Mrs. Beaver did not like the turn things had taken; her workmen had been sent back from Hetton with their job unfinished.

“She sounded very well. I didn’t see her.”

“But you said you were going to see her.”

“Yes, I thought I was, but I turned out to be wrong. I talked to her several times on the telephone.”

“But you can telephone her from here, can’t you, daddy? Why did you go all the way to London to telephone her?… Why, daddy?”

“It would take too long to explain.”

“Well tell me some of it… Why, daddy?”

“Look here, I’m tired. If you don’t stop asking questions I shan’t let you ever come and meet the train again.”