Seen By Candlelight

When the meal was over and coffee was served. Paul offered Karen a cigarette and after he had lit hers and his own he said:

“You’re still with Lewis Martin, then.” It was more of a statement than a question.

‘Yes. Lewis and I get on very well,” she replied coldly.

“I’m sure you do,” he agreed smoothly. “Why haven’t you married him?”

“Because I haven’t,” she retorted. “In any case, it’s no concern of yours.”

“Of course not. I was merely making conversation.” He smiled mockingly and she conveyed her own gaze to the tip of her cigarette.

“How … how is your mother?” she asked quietly.

Paul’s mother lived in the South of France. When her husband died and Paul took over the business, she had retired there to live with her sister and Paul and Karen had visited her a couple of times during their marriage. Karen had liked her but had not had a lot to do with her.

“She’s very well,” answered Paul gravely. “I expect Ruth and I will stay there for a while after the wedding.”

“Does Ruth already know your mother?”

“She has met her, yes. She flew over for the engagement party.”

“Ah, yes. I ought to have remembered,” said Karen, shrugging. “And when is the wedding to be?” The question was a tortuous one for her. Asking when Paul intended to make another woman his wife.

“In about three months,” he replied smoothly. “Ruth wants to be a June bride.”

“How sweet,” remarked Karen sardonically. “I’m sure she’ll do you credit.”

“I’m sure she will,” he said easily. “She’s a very attractive person.”

Karen drew on her cigarette. She had only seen a photograph of Ruth in a newspaper and really it had not given much life to her features.

“Do you intend living at the apartment, afterwards?” she asked, wanting to know and yet dreading the answer.

“To begin with, perhaps,” he replied, dropping a sliver of ash into the silver ashtray. “I expect I shall buy a house, somewhere in the country. Ruth knows England quite well and likes the Weald.”

“Oh yes? How nice for you both.” Karen sounded bored by it all.

Paul shrugged. “I’m sure it will be. And then of course, we will spend some time each year in America. Ruth’s family live in Dallas.”

Karen finished her coffee. “And you’re having a honeymoon, too, I suppose?”

Paul smiled. “You’re very curious about us, aren’t you?”

“Why not?” She managed a tight smile. “What else is there to talk about?”

“We may go touring,” he remarked slowly. “We haven’t decided yet. Ruth adores being the perfect tourist.”

“Touring?” exclaimed Karen, raising her dark eyebrows. “That’s rather a strenuous way to spend your honeymoon.” She smiled suddenly, remembering. “Do you recall the months we spent in that villa near Nassau, with that gorgeous beach all to ourselves?”

Paul frowned and stubbed out his cigarette. “Yes, I remember.” he replied, his voice cold. Karen looked surprised and yet felt reasonably pleased. He had been so complacent, so confident, but the mention of their honeymoon still had the power to disturb him. Those halcyon days and nights were never to be forgotten, whatever Ruth might have to offer, and even Paul had to acknowledge this to himself.

Studying him when he was not aware of her doing so, she found repugnance in the very idea of his marrying another woman. After all, their marriage had seemed so right at first and seeing him now brought it home to her that divorce inevitably changes everything completely. She felt she wanted to reach across to him and have him look at her as he had used to look at her with love in his eyes. She wanted to tell him she still loved him and would go back to him today if he would have her.

But that awful thing called civilized conduct prevented her from doing such a thing and instead they exchanged platitudes and ignored the primitive emotions working beneath the surface.

They finished their coffee and Paul said:

“I’m afraid I must go now. I have a great deal to do this afternoon and I have a business engagement at three.”

Karen rose to her feet. “That’s quite all right, Paul. I’ve said what I came to say.”

Paul shrugged almost imperceptibly and then stood back to allow her to precede him from the room. Once outside, he pulled on his overcoat and said:

“My car is parked nearby. Can I drop you anywhere?”

Karen hesitated for a moment. She had no desire to prolong the agony, but she did intend going to see Lewis this afternoon, and now was as good a time as any.

“You could take me to Martin’s,” she said, looking up at him with a cool green gaze. “I want to see Lewis.” She said the latter part purposely and was amused when his face darkened slightly. It lasted only a moment and then it was gone, and he was nodding and assisting her down the shallow steps to the pavement.

The car was not far away and they walked towards it in silence. Karen had never seen this car before. It was a low-slung, continental car in cream with scarlet upholstery, and when Karen was put inside she found it superbly comfortable. The springing of the seats was luxuriously soft and it was like gliding on a bed of feathers.

“A new car,” she murmured softly. “Very elegant.”

Paul shrugged and slid behind the wheel, his thigh brushing hers for a moment, causing Karen to shiver slightly.

“I’m glad you like it. It suits me. It’s good for acceleration purposes which is what I need for some of the roads I have to cover.”

“It makes my old rattletrap seem very old and outmoded. But I like the old bus and it serves its purpose. I don’t use it such a lot.” Karen grimaced.

Paul glanced swiftly at her. “But you could afford a new one, couldn’t you?” It was a statement rather than a question.

Karen half smiled. “Of course,” she admitted easily. “But I don’t want one just at the moment. Oh, don’t worry, honey, I’m not a pauper yet, not by any means. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Paul flushed. “Why say something like that?” he muttered, “I don’t want to see you without means. Good heavens, I would be quite willing to help you if ever you needed money, surely you know that?”

Karen’s eyes widened. “Do I? Why should you imagine I would come to you for anything?”

Paul looked amused. “Well, haven’t you done just that thing?”

Karen flushed. “Very clever,” she said, annoyed with herself for being so rash. “Come on, let’s go.”

Paul shrugged and drove out into the stream of traffic.

Martin Textile Designs stood in a by-road off Great Portland Street. It was a tall, imposing building, although the basement and first floor were merely warehouses for another company. Lewis Martin’s domain occupied the upper floors with Lewis’s office being at the top. Karen had a small office of her own there, but she seldom used it, preferring to work at home.

Paul drew the large automobile to a halt at the entrance and said:

“I guess this is it,” in a lazy voice.