Rebecca chapter3 part4

She paused, expecting him to smile, but he went on smoking his cigarette, and I noticed, faint as gossamer, the line between his eyebrows.
“I’ve seen pictures of it, of course,” she persisted, “and it looks perfectly enchanting. I remember Billy telling me it had all those big places beat for beauty. I wonder you can ever bear to leave it.”
His silence now was painful, and would have been patent to anyone else, but she ran on like a clumsy goat, trampling and trespassing on land that was preserved, and I felt the color flood my face, dragged with her I was into humiliation.
“Of course you Englishmen are all the same about your homes,” she said, her voice becoming louder and louder, “you depreciate them so as not to seem proud. Isn’t there a minstrel’s gallery at Manderley, and some very valuable portraits?” she turned to my by way of explanation. “Mr de Winter is so modest he won’t admit to it, but I believe that lovely home of his has been in his family’s possession since the Conquest. They say that minstrels’ gallery is a gem. I suppose your ancestors often entertained royalty at Manderley, Mr de Winter?”
This was more than I have hitherto endured, even from her, but the swift lash of his reply was unexpected. “Not since Ethelred,” He said, “the one who was called Unready. In fact, it was while staying with my family that the name was given him. He was invariably late for dinner.”
She deserved it , of course, and I waited for her change of face, but incredible as it may seem his words were lost on her, and I was left to writhe in her stead, feeling like a child that had been smacked.
“Is that really so?” She blundered. “I’d no idea. My history is very shaky and the kings of England always muddled me. How interesting though. I must write and tell my daughter; she’s a great scholar.”
There was a pause, and I felt the color flood into my face. I was too young, that was the trouble. Had I been older I would have caught his eye and smiled, her unbelievable behavior making a bond between us; but as It was I was stricken into shame, and endured on of the frequent agonies of youth.
I think he realized my distress, for he learnt forward in his chair and spoke to me, his voice gentle, asking if I would have more coffee, and when I refused and shook my head, I felt his eyes still on me, puzzled, reflective. He was pondering my exact relationships to her, and wondering whether he must bracket us together in futility.