‘But I thought you went to a dance.’
‘Oh no, sir. We went to dinner with my mother. We played cards
until three o’clock. My mother loves cards. She forgot the time.’
‘Oh, that’s all right. I hope you had a good time.’
‘Oh, we had a wonderful time, thank you. But I thought that perhaps
you were worried about Susie . . .’
‘No, no. Of course not!’
‘That’s all right then.’ The young man looked at Mr Carteret’s wet
pyjamas and looked away again. ‘It’s been a wonderfully warm night, hasn’t it? he said politely.
‘Terribly hot. I couldn’t sleep’
‘Sleep! I must get home to bed! He smiled, showing beautiful white
teeth. ‘Good night, sir?
‘Good night.’
The car began to move away. The young man waved goodbye and
Mr. Carteret called after him:
‘You must come and have dinner with us one evening . . .’
‘How kind! Yes, please . . . Good night, sir’
Mr Carteret walked down the road. ‘He called me sir,’ he thought.
‘What a polite young man! I like him.’
He reached the garden. The new light of morning shone on his roses. There was one very beautiful red rose, newly opened and dark
as blood. ‘I’ll pick it,’ he said to himself, ‘and take it upstairs for my
wife.’ But, in the end, he decided to leave it there.
And then suddenly, a bird began to sing.
‘But I thought you went to a dance.’‘Oh no, sir. We went to dinner with my mother. We played cardsuntil three o’clock. My mother loves cards. She forgot the time.’‘Oh, that’s all right. I hope you had a good time.’‘Oh, we had a wonderful time, thank you. But I thought that perhapsyou were worried about Susie . . .’‘No, no. Of course not!’‘That’s all right then.’ The young man looked at Mr Carteret’s wetpyjamas and looked away again. ‘It’s been a wonderfully warm night, hasn’t it? he said politely.‘Terribly hot. I couldn’t sleep’‘Sleep! I must get home to bed! He smiled, showing beautiful whiteteeth. ‘Good night, sir?‘Good night.’The car began to move away. The young man waved goodbye andMr. Carteret called after him:‘You must come and have dinner with us one evening . . .’‘How kind! Yes, please . . . Good night, sir’Mr Carteret walked down the road. ‘He called me sir,’ he thought.‘What a polite young man! I like him.’He reached the garden. The new light of morning shone on his roses. There was one very beautiful red rose, newly opened and darkas blood. ‘I’ll pick it,’ he said to himself, ‘and take it upstairs for mywife.’ But, in the end, he decided to leave it there.And then suddenly, a bird began to sing.
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