Rebecca chapter3 part6

The sting did not touch her, she accepted it as a pleasantry. “It’s so delightful to have run into you like this, Mr de Winter,” she said, as we went towards the lift; “Now I’ve been brave enough to break the ice I hope I shall see something of you. You must come and have a drink sometime in the suite, I may have one or two people coming in tomorrow evening. Why not join us?” I turned away so that I should not watch him search for an excuse.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, “tomorrow I am probably driving to Sospel, I’m not sure when I shall get back.”
Reluctantly she left it, but we still hovered at the entrance to the lift.
“I hope they’ve given you a good room; the place is half empty, so if you are uncomfortable, mind you make a fuss. Your valet has unpacked for you, I suppose?” This familiarity was excessive, even for her, and I caught a glimpse of his expression.
“I don’t possess one,” he said quietly; “perhaps you would like to do it for me？”
This time his shaft has found its mark, for she reddened, and laughed a little awkwardly.
“Why, I hardly think…” she began, and then suddenly, and unbelievably, she turned upon me, “perhaps you could make yourself useful to Mr de Winter, if he wants anything done. You’re a capable child in many ways.”
There was a momentary pause, while I stood stricken, waiting for his answer. He looked down at us, mocking, faintly sardonic, a ghost of smile on his lips.
“A charming suggestion,” he said, ‘but I cling to the family motto. He travels the fastest who travels alone. Perhaps you have not heard of it.”
And without waiting for her answer he turned and left us.
“What a funny thing,” said Mrs Van Hopper, as we went upstairs in the lift, “Do you suppose that sudden departure was a form of humor? Men do such extraordinary things. I remember a well-known writer once who sued to dart down the Service staircase whenever he saw me coming. I suppose he had a penchant for me and wasn’t sure of himself. However, I was younger then.”
The lift stopped with a jerk. We arrived at our floor. The page-boy flung open the gates. “By the way, dear,” she said, as we walked along the corridor, “don’t think I mean to be unkind, but you put yourself just a teeny bit forward this afternoon. Your efforts to monopolize the conversation quite embarrassed me, and I’m sure it did him. Men loathe that kind of thing.”
I said nothing. There seemed no possible reply. “Oh, come, don’t sulk,” she laughed, and shrugged her shoulders; “after all, I am responsible for your behavior here, and sure you can accept advice from a woman old enough to be your mother. Eh bien Blaize, je viens…” and humming a tune she went into the bedroom where the dressmaker was waiting for her.