Theatre Page 0,36

as she said this. He put his arm round her waist and kissed her full on the lips. No woman was ever more surprised in her life. She was so taken aback that she never thought of doing anything. His lips were soft and there was a perfume of youth about him which was really rather delightful. But what he was doing was preposterous. He was forcing her lips apart with the tip of his tongue and now he had both arms round her. She did not feel angry, she did not feel inclined to laugh, she did not know what she felt. And now she had a notion that he was gently drawing her along, his lips still pressing hers, she felt quite distinctly the glow of his body, it was as though there was a furnace inside him, it was really remarkable; and then she found herself laid on the divan and he was beside her, kissing her mouth and her neck and her cheeks and her eyes. Julia felt a strange pang in her heart. She took his head in her hands and kissed his lips.

A few minutes later she was standing at the chimney-piece, in front of the looking-glass, making herself tidy.

"Look at my hair."

He handed her a comb and she ran it through. Then she put on her hat. He was standingjust behind her, and over her shoulder she saw his face with those eager blue eyes and a faint smile in them.

"And I thought you were such a shy young man," she said to his reflection.

He chuckled.

"When am I going to see you again?"

"Do you want to see me again?"

"Rather."

She thought rapidly. It was too absurd, of course she had no intention of seeing him again, it was stupid of her to have let him behave like that, but it was just as well to temporize. He might be tiresome if she told him that the incident would have no sequel.

"I'll ring up one of these days."

"Swear."

"On my honour."

"Don't be too long."

He insisted on coming down stairs with her and putting her into a cab. She had wanted to go down alone, so that she could have a look at the cards attached to the bells on the lintel.

"Damn it all, I ought at least to know his name."

But he gave her no chance. When the taxi drove off she sank into one corner of it and gurgled with laughter.

"Raped, my dear. Practically raped. At my time of life. And without so much as by your leave. Treated me like a tart. Eighteenth-century comedy, that's what it is. I might have been a waiting-maid. In a hoop, with those funny puffy things - what the devil are they called? - that they wore to emphasize their hips, an apron and a scarf round me neck." Then with vague memories of Farquhar and Goldsmith she invented the dialogue. "La, sir, 'tis shame to take advantage of a poor country girl. What would Mrs. Abigail, her ladyship's woman, say an she knew her ladyship's brother had ravished me of the most precious treasure a young woman in my station of life can possess, videlicet* her innocence. Fie, ?fie, sir."

When Julia got home the masseuse was already waiting for her. Miss Phillips and Evie were having a chat.

"Wherever 'ave you been, Miss Lambert?" said Evie. "An' what about your rest, I should like to know."

"Damn my rest."

Julia tore off her clothes, and flung them with ample gestures all over the room. Then, stark naked, she skipped on to the bed, stood up on it for a moment, like Venus rising from the waves, and then throwing herself down stretched herself out.

"What's the idea?" said Evie.

"I feel good."

"Well, if I behaved like that people'd say I'd been drinkin'."

Miss Phillips began to massage her feet. She rubbed gently, to rest and not to tire her.

"When you came in just now, like a whirlwind," she said, "I thought you looked twenty years younger. Your eyes were shining something wonderful."

"Oh, keep that for Mr. Gosselyn, Miss Phillips." And then as an afterthought, "I feel like a two-year-old."

And it was the same at the theatre later on. Archie Dexter, who was her leading man, came into her dressing-room to speak about something. She had just finished making-up. He was startled.

"Hulloa, Julia, what's the matter with you tonight? Gosh, you look swell. Why you don't look a day more than twenty-five."

"With a son of sixteen it's no good pretending I'm so