Rebecca chapter3 part5

“What do you think of Monte Carlo, or don’t you think it at all?” he said. This including of me in this conversation found me at my worst, the raw ex-schoolgirl, red-elbowed and lanky-haired, and I said something obvious and idiotic about the place being artificial, but before I could finish my halting sentence Mrs Van Hopper interrupted.
“She is spoilt, Mr de Winter, that’s her trouble. Most girls would give their eyes for the chance of seeing Monte.”
“Wouldn’t that rather defeat the purpose?” he said, smiling.”
She shrugged her shoulders, blowing a great cloud of cigarette smoke into the air. I don’t she understood him for a moment. “I’m faithful to Monte.” she told him; “the English winter gets me down, and my constitution just won’t stand it. What brings you here? You’re not one of the regulars. Are you going to play Chemy, or have you brought your golfclubs?"
“I have not made up my mind,” he said; “I came away in rather a hurry.”
His own words must have jolted a memory, for his face clouded again and he frowned very slightly. She babbled on, impervious. “Of course, you miss the fogs of Manderley; it’s quite another matter; the west country must be delightful in the spring.” He reached for the ash-tray, squashing his cigarette, and I noticed the subtle change in his eyes, the indefinable something that lingered there, momentarily, and I felt I had looked upon something personal to himself with which I had no concern.
“Yes,” he said shortly, “Manderley was looking its best.”
A silence fell upon us during a moment or two, a silence that brought something of discomfort in its train, and stealing a glance at him I was reminded more than ever of my Gentleman Unknown who, cloaked and secret, walked a corridor by night. Mrs Van Hopper’s voice pierced my dream like an electric bell.
“I supposed you know a crowd of people here, though I must say Monte is very dull this winter. One sees so few well-known faces. The Duke of Middlesex is here in his yacht, but I haven’t been aboard yet.” She never had, to my knowledge. “You know Nell Middlesex of course,” she went on. “What a charmer she is. They always say the second child isn’t his, but I don’t believe it, people will say anything, won’t they, when a woman is attractive? And she is so very lovely. Tell me, is it true the Caxton-Hyslop marriage is not a success?” She ran on, through a tangled fringe of gossip, never seeing that these names were alien to him, they meant nothing, and that as she prattled unaware he grew colder and more silent. Never for a moment did he interrupt or glance at his watch; it was as though he had set himself a standard of behavior, since the original lapse when he had made a fool of her in front of me, and clung to it grimly rather than offend again. It was a page-boy in the end who released him, with the news that a dress-maker awaited Mrs Van Hopper in the suite.
He got up at once, pushing back his chair. “Don’t let me keep you,” he said. “Fashions change....