DARK HESTER
down every day—or cut you off too much from all your London occupations?’
‘Not a bit more tiring than it is to get from Chelsea to the city; and we shall be able to afford a car now that will take us to the station in ten minutes. He will have tennis here, and he loves that so, and I shall manage perfectly;—but, you know, we were thinking of you even more than of ourselves. We didn’t like to think of you all alone down here.’ Hester wanted to make it clear. It was the second time she had said it.
‘I know. It’s too dear of you both. How soon will you move in?’
‘We think we can manage in six weeks’ time; by the end of September. Eddie and I and Marcia Jessup are coming down on Saturday to go over the rooms and Beppo Gales, too, perhaps. He says he’ll decorate the dining-room for us if it’s a possible shape.—We’ll call for you, shall we?—and have tea here afterwards.’
‘Beppo’ Gales was a young painter whose fame, in Monica’s eyes, rested upon impudence rather than achievement. He dealt with the human form singularly displayed and distorted and had been one of the young people on the stairs who had called Clive the cigarette-holder. Grievous to think that
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