Somerset Maugham - Sixty-Five Short Stories

It was true that it had been very convenient to live free of cost. He had saved the greater part of his salary. He had a thrifty soul and had never been used to spending money when it wasn't necessary, but he was proud. He could not go on living at other people's expense. Darya looked at him with her quiet, observant eyes.

'Angus and I have got used to you now. I think we'd miss you. If you like, you can pay us for your board. You don't cost anything, but if it'll make you easier I'll find out exactly what difference you make in cookie's book and you can pay that.'

'It must be an awful nuisance having a stranger in the house,' he answered uncertainly.

'It'll be miserable for you there. Good heavens, the filth they eat.'

It was true also that at the Munros you ate better than anywhere else at Kuala Solor. He had dined out now and then, and even at the Resident's you didn't get a very good dinner. Darya liked her food and kept the cook up to the mark. He made Russian dishes which were a fair treat. That cabbage soup of Darya's was worth walking five miles for. But Munro hadn't said anything.

'I'd be glad if you'd stay here,' he said now. 'It's very convenient to have you on the spot. If anything comes up we can talk it over there and then. Waring and Jonson are very good fellows, but I dare say you'd find them rather limited after a bit.'

'Oh, well, then I'll be very pleased. Heaven knows, I couldn't want anything better than this. I was only afraid I was in the way.'

Next day it was raining cats and dogs and it was impossible to play tennis or football, but towards six Neil put on a mackintosh and went to the club. It was empty but for the Resident, who was sitting in an arm-chair reading The Fortnightly. His name was Trevelyan, and he claimed to be related to the friend of Byron. He was a tall fat man, with close-cropped white hair and the large red face of a comic actor. He was fond of amateur theatricals and specialized in cynical dukes and facetious butlers. He was a bachelor, but generally supposed to be fond of the girls, and he liked his gin pahit before dinner. He owed his position to the Sultan's friendship. He was a slack, complacent man, a great talker, not very fond of work, who wanted everything to go smoothly and no one to give trouble. Though not considered especially competent he was popular in the community because he was easy-going and hospitable, and he certainly made life more comfortable than if he had been energetic and efficient. He nodded to Neil.

'Well, young fellow, how are bugs today?'

'Feeling the weather, sir,' said Neil gravely.

'Hi-hi.'

In a few minutes Waring, Jonson, and another man, called Bishop, came in. He was in the Civil Service. Neil did not play bridge, so Bishop went up to the Resident.

'Would you care to make a fourth, sir?' he asked him. 'There's nobody much in the club today.'

The Resident gave the others a glance.

'All right. I'll just finish this article and join you. Cut for me and deal. I shall only be five minutes.'

Neil went up to the three men.

'Oh, I say, Waring, thanks awfully, but I can't move over to you after all. The Munros have asked me to stay on with them for good.'

A broad smile broke on Waring's face.

'Fancy that.'

'It's awfully nice of them, isn't it? They made rather a point of it. I couldn't very well refuse.'

'What did I tell you?' said Bishop.

'I don't blame the boy,' said Waring.

There was something in their manner that Neil did not like. They seemed to be amused. He flushed.

'What the hell are you talking about?' he cried.

'Oh, come off it,' said Bishop. 'We know our Darya. You're not the first good-looking young fellow she's had a romp with, and you won't be the last.'

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Neil's clenched fist shot out like a flash. He hit Bishop on the face and he fell heavily to the floor. Jonson sprang at Neil and seized him round the middle, for he was beside himself.

'Let me go,' he shouted. 'If he doesn't withdraw that I'll kill him.'

The Resident, startled by the commotion, looked up and rose to his feet. He walked heavily towards them.

'What's this? What's this? What the hell are you boys playing at?'

They were taken aback. They had forgotten him. He was their master. Jonson let go of Neil and Bishop picked himself up. The Resident, a frown on his face, spoke to Neil sharply.

'What's the meaning of this? Did you hit Bishop?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Why?'

'He made a foul suggestion reflecting on a woman's honour,' said Neil, very haughtily, and still white with rage.

The Resident's eyes twinkled, but he kept a grave face.

'What woman?'

'I refuse to answer,' said Neil, throwing back his head and drawing himself up to his full imposing height.

It would have been more effective if the Resident hadn't been a good two inches taller, and very much stouter.

'Don't be a damned young fool.'

'Darya Munro,' said Jonson.

'What did you say, Bishop?'

'I forget the exact words I used. I said she'd hopped into bed with a good many young chaps here, and I supposed she hadn't missed the chance of doing the same with MacAdam.'

'It was a most offensive suggestion. Will you be so good as to apologize and shake hands. Both of you.'

'I've had a hell of a biff, sir. My eye's going to look like the devil. I'm damned if I apologize for telling the truth.'

'You're old enough to know that the fact that your statement is true only makes it more offensive, and as far as your eye is concerned I'm told that a raw beef-steak is very efficacious in these circumstances. Though I put my desire that you should apologize in the form of a request out of politeness, it is in point of fact an order.'

There was a moment's silence. The Resident looked bland.

'I apologize for what I said, sir,' Bishop said sulkily.

'Now then, MacAdam.'

'I'm sorry I hit him, sir. I apologize, too.'

'Shake hands.'

The two young men solemnly did so.

'I shouldn't like this to go any further. It wouldn't be nice for Munro, whom I think we all like. Can I count on you all holding your tongues?'

They nodded.

'Now be off with you. You stay, MacAdam, I want to have a few words with you.'

When the two of them were left alone, the Resident sat down and lit himself a cheroot. He offered one to Neil, but he only smoked cigarettes.

'You're a very violent young man,' said the Resident, with a smile. 'I don't like my officers to make scenes in a public place like this.'

'Mrs Munro is a great friend of mine. She's been kindness itself to me. I won't hear a word said against her.'

'Then I'm afraid you'll have your job cut out for you if you stay here much longer.'

Neil was silent for a moment. He stood, tall and slim, before the Resident, and his grave young face was guileless. He flung back his head defiantly. His emotion made him speak in broader Scots even than usual.

'I've lived with the Munros for four months, and I give you my word of honour that so far as I am concerned there is not an iota of truth in what that beast said. Mrs Munro has never treated me with anything that you could call undue familiarity. She's never by word or deed given me the smallest hint that she had an improper idea in her head. She's been like a mother to me or an elder sister.'

The Resident watched him with ironical eyes.

'I'm very glad to hear it. That's the best thing I've heard about her for a long time.'

'You believe me, sir, don't you?'

'Of course. Perhaps you've reformed her.' He called out, 'Boy. Bring me a gin pahit.' And then to Neil. 'That'll do. You can go now if you want to. But no more fighting, mind you, or you'll get the order of the boot.'

When Neil walked back to the Munros' bungalow the rain had stopped and the velvet sky was bright with stars. In the garden the fire-flies were flitting here and there. From the earth rose a scented warmth and you felt that if you stopped you would hear the growth of that luxuriant vegetation. A white flower of the night gave forth an overwhelming perfume. In the veranda Munro was typing some notes, and Darya, lying at full length on a long chair, was reading. The lamp behind her lit her smoky hair so that it shone like an aureole. She looked up at Neil and, putting down her book, smiled. Her smile was very friendly.