The Complete Short Stories of W. Somerset Maugham - II - The World Over (105 page)

For the rest of the journey those men spoilt Miss Reid outrageously. They treated her with the consideration they would have shown to someone who was convalescent after a long and dangerous illness. Though her appetite was excellent they sought to tempt her with new dishes. The doctor ordered wine and insisted on her sharing his bottle with him. They played dominoes with her. They played chess with her. They played bridge with her. They engaged her in conversation. But there was no doubt about it, though she responded to their advances with politeness, she kept herself to herself. She seemed to regard them with something very like disdain; you might almost have thought that she looked upon those men and their efforts to be amiable as pleasantly ridiculous. She seldom spoke unless spoken to. She read detective stories and at night sat on deck looking at the stars. She lived a life of her own.

At last the journey drew to its close. They sailed up the English Channel on a still grey day; they sighted land. Miss Reid packed her trunk. At two o’clock in the afternoon they docked at Plymouth. The captain, the mate, and the doctor came along to say good-bye to her.

“Well, Miss Reid,” said the captain in his jovial way, “we’re sorry to lose you, but I suppose you’re glad to be getting home.”

“You’ve been very kind to me, you’ve all been very kind to me, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it. I’ve been very happy with you. I shall never forget you.”

She spoke rather shakily, she tried to smile, but her lips quivered, and tears ran down her cheeks. The captain got very red. He smiled awkwardly.

“May I kiss you, Miss Reid?”

She was taller than he by half a head. She bent down and he planted a fat kiss on one wet cheek and a fat kiss on the other. She turned to the mate and the doctor. They both kissed her.

“What an old fool I am,” she said. “Everybody’s so good.”

She dried her eyes and slowly, in her graceful, rather absurd way, walked down the companion. The captain’s eyes were wet. When she reached the quay she looked up and waved to someone on the boat deck.

“Who’s she waving to?” asked the captain.

“The radio-operator.”

Miss Price was waiting on the quay to welcome her. When they had passed the Customs and got rid of Miss Reid’s heavy luggage they went to Miss Price’s house and had an early cup of tea. Miss Reid’s train did not start till five. Miss Price had much to tell Miss Reid.

“But it’s too bad of me to go on like this when you’ve just come home. I’ve been looking forward to hearing all about your journey.”

“I’m afraid there’s not very much to tell.”

“I can’t believe that. Your trip was a success, wasn’t it?”

“A distinct success. It was very nice.”

“And you didn’t mind being with all those Germans?”

“Of course they’re not like English people. One has to get used to their ways. They sometimes do things that-well, that English people wouldn’t do, you know. But I always think that one has to take things as they come.”

“What sort of things do you mean?”

Miss Reid looked at her friend calmly. Her long, stupid face had a placid look, and Miss Price never noticed that in the eyes was a strangely mischievous twinkle.

“Things of no importance really. Just funny, unexpected, rather nice things. There’s no doubt that travel is a wonderful education.”