Forbidden Places [antikvár]

June 24th 1995'I'm going to make her tell us today. She's kept that secret from us for fifty years now, and I really feel that's quite long enough.' These words, spoken in a clear, melodic and extremely well-bred voice echoed through the Palm Court of the Ritz Hotel, halting several conversations in mid-sentence, if not word and causing several more cups to rattle in their saucers; the owner of the voice, elegant and extremely stylish, dressed in a white silk suit, long shapely legs curled neatly beneath her gilt chair, became aware of the fact and smiled pleasedly at her companion. The companion, dressed more conservatively but still with considerable chic, in a black wool dress, a wide pearl choker round her long, graceful neck, looked back at her seriously for a moment and then said, 'Well I'd put my money on Grace personally, Clarissa. You've been working on her all this time with a complete lack of success. Anyway, does it really matter? As you say it's fifty years. Probably best left I'd have thought.''I just don't like not knowing things,' said Clarissa. 'Secrets irritate me, Horence. Fifty-year-old secrets irritate me even more. And that one of Grace's is a particularly intriguing one.''And I suppose you haven't got any yourself?' said Horence lightly.'Me!' said Clarissa, her large brown eyes opening very wide, her smile sweetly frank as she looked at Horence. 'Of course not. Always tell everybody everything, I do. Can't keep anything to myself at all. You should know that Horence darling.''Mmm,' said Horence; she looked back at Clarissa, her grey eyes thoughtful.'And what's that supposed to mean?'1