The Nutmeg Tree by Margery Sharp

shown that her impersonation of a lady was not so good as she had thought. Worse still, he was going to make her say things, do things, that would have a definite effect; that might lead to scenes with Susan, to explanations with Mrs. Packett; that would put an end, in short, to the happy period of her carefree basking.…
    â€œWell,” said Bryan, looking at her under his lids, “that’s not such a bad sort to be—is it?”
    Julia did not immediately reply. To marshal her thoughts, to produce an ordered sequence of ideas, was not a business which came easily to her. She had first to disentangle her own meaning, then to fit it with words; and since what she now had to communicate was of the utmost importance, so the preliminaries were correspondingly long.
    â€œNot bad ,” she said at last. “Not out-and-out bad . But bad compared with people like Susan and her grandmother. Compared with other people, we’re quite good. If you ask me,” said Julia, “we’re sort of half-and-halves. So long as we stay with our own lot, we’re all right. We don’t do any harm. It’s only when we begin to mix with the others—with the real good—that trouble starts. If you married Susan, you’d make her miserable.”
    â€œYou married Susan’s father,” said Bryan swiftly.
    Julia shrugged.
    â€œThat was different. It was the war. If he hadn’t been killed, I should have made him miserable.”
    â€œYou’d have given him a damned good time.”
    â€œIt’s not a good time they want,” said Julia soberly. “They want a different sort of time altogether. I’m rotten at explaining. But I remember when Susan was coming, and after, how good they were to me—you see, you can’t say a thing about them without bringing in good —and yet we couldn’t get on. They really wanted me, too; they wanted to have me for a daughter, and I was so grateful, especially as I’d half-expected to be thrown out on my neck; I thought I could do anything in the world for them. I tried, and they tried; but it didn’t work.”
    The young man moved impatiently. “It’s all dead and gone to him,” thought Julia.
    â€œI admit all that,” he said; “but you must see it’s a very different thing, my marrying Susan. We’re both young, we’re in love with each other—”
    â€œWhat are you going to do with yourself?” interrupted Julia. “You’re a sort of lawyer, aren’t you?”
    â€œA barrister, darling. At any rate, I’ve been called. But I’m not sure I shall ever practise.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œToo much of a grind. I don’t want to spend the next ten years grinding. I want to knock about the world and look at things and talk to people. I got five hundred a year from my mother, and if I married Susan I dare say the old man would stump up a bit more. He’ll adore her.”
    Julia’s thoughts flew back to the dressing-room at the Frivolity, and to the recumbent figure of Sir James Relton. Bryan was quite right: to a daughter-in-law like Susan the old rip would be generous indeed. He’d know what he was getting. And then Susan would no doubt have money too; together she and Bryan would be able to knock about—first-class—to their hearts’ content. Only—would Susan’s heart thus be contented? Did she realize what lay in store for her? “I don’t believe they know a thing about each other,” thought Julia.…
    â€œI see your idea,” continued Bryan tolerantly; “but—if you’ll excuse my saying so—it’s all wrong.”
    â€œIf I had my way,” said Julia, following her own train of thought, “I’d pack you off for a month together and let you find out for yourselves.”
    Bryan grinned.
    â€œThere’s nothing I’d like better,