I was full of ideas and the beginning of my first chapter spouted out,
and when Miss Sharp had read it over to me I found she had not made any
mistake. That is a mercy.
She went away and typed it, and then had her lunch--and I had mine, but
Maurice dropped in and mine took longer than hers--it was half past two
when I rang my hand bell for her (it is a jolly little silver one I
bought once in Cairo) She answered it promptly--the script in her hand.
"I have had half an hour with nothing to do," she said--"Can you not
give me some other work which I can turn to, if this should happen
again?"
"You can read a book--there are lots in the book case" I told her--"Or I
might leave you some letters to answer."
"Thank you, that would be best"--(She is conscientious evidently).
We began again.
She sits at a table with her notebook, and while I pause she is
absolutely still--that is good. I feel she won't count more than a table
or chair. I am quite pleased with my work. It is awfully hot to-day and
there is some tension in the air--as though something was going to
happen. The news is the same--perhaps slightly better.--I am going to
have a small dinner to-night. The widow and Maurice and Madame de
Clerté--just four and we are going to the play. It is such a business
for me to go I seldom turn out.--Maurice is having a little supper in
his rooms at the Ritz for us. It is my birthday--I am thirty-one years
old.
Friday--What an evening that 26th of June! The theatre was hot and the
cramped position worried me so--and the lights made my eye ache--Madame
de Clerté and I left before the end and ambled back to the Ritz in my
one horse Victoria and went and sat in Maurice's room. We talked of the
situation, and the effect of the Americans coming in, bucking everyone
up--we were rather cheerful. Then the sirens began--and the guns
followed just as Maurice and Odette got back--They seemed unusually
loud--and we could hear the bits of shrapnel falling on the terrace
beneath us, Odette was frightened and suggested going into the
cellar--but as Maurice's rooms are only on the second floor, we did not
want to take the trouble.
Fear has a peculiar effect upon some people--Odette's complexion turned
grey and she could hardly keep her voice steady. I wondered how soon she
would let restraint slip from her and fly out of the room to the cellar.
Madame de Clerté was quite unmoved.