THE ENGLISH GARDENS
231
natural resolve flooded back. Putting down her small gold pen,
she took off the plain summer
dr~
she wore and looked around
for something more interesting. Next, she brushed her hair and
sat down to work on her lips.
Meredith was rather depressed. They had not discussed his
poem, on the contrary, Manas had launched into an analysis of
Walter Norman, as man and poet, with considerable condescen–
sion.
As
a result Meredith was telling himself
his
poem was, in–
deed, slight, not worked enough, not worth discussion. He was
always willing to believe the worst about
his
own work. And
then he noticed the bookshelves of the door moving in. A soft
voice asked, "Do I get any lunch?" And Mary Jane appeared.
The warm rose of her dress, the red of her lips, and her hair
introduced a whole new element of light. He looked at her with
renewed pleasure, as if reminded of the merits of a book he had
put down unfinished.
Nicolas's first thought was, 'Geez'
She's
following
me!'
His
first look was clearly suspicious. Then it became apparent she
and Meredith knew each other. With that, his mind fell to work.
Meanwhile, he had pushed to his feet, in imitation of Meredith,
and stood half smiling, half smirking at her.
"Yes," she was saying, "we do know each other. In fact, we
saw each other just this morning, getting our mail. What was
in
your
mail, Nicolas?"
Now, Nicolas knew very little about small talk-unless per–
sonal questions, various forms of threat, innuendo, and streams
of the subconscious constituted the New Small Talk- as a result,
Mary Jane's question seemed to
him
almost insultingly pointless
and he answered, stiffly, "I got these proofs from my publisher
and some letters."
"Well, well," Meredith exclaimed, pulling up a chair for
Mary Jane, "maybe you would let me read some poems from
the proof sheets?"
More interested in watching Meredith's attentions to Mary
