"I think we change cooks periodically," said Maxim, "but the standard of cooking remains the same. Mrs. Danvers has all the recipes, she tells them what to do."
"Amazing woman, that Mrs. Danvers," said Giles, turning to me; "don't you think so?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "Mrs. Danvers seems to be a wonderful person."
"She's no oil painting though, is she?" said Giles, and he roared with laughter. Frank Crawley said nothing, and looking up I saw Beatrice was watching me. She turned away then, and began talking to Maxim.
"Do you play golf at all, Mrs. de Winter?" said Mr. Crawley.
"No, I'm afraid I don't," I answered, glad that the subject had been changed again, that Mrs. Danvers was forgotten, and even though I was no player, knew nothing of the game, I was prepared to listen to him as long as he pleased; there was something solid and safe and dull about golf, it could not bring us into any difficulties. We had cheese, and coffee, and I wondered whether I was supposed to make a move. I kept looking at Maxim, but he gave no sign, and then Giles embarked upon a story, rather difficult to follow, about digging a car out of a snowdrift--what had started the train of thought I could not tell--and I listened to him politely, nodding my head now and again and smiling, aware of Maxim becoming restive at his end of the table. At last he paused, and I caught Maxim's eye. He frowned very slightly and jerked his head towards the door.
I got up at once, shaking the table clumsily as I moved my chair, and upsetting Giles's glass of port. "Oh, dear," I said, hovering, wondering what to do, reaching ineffectively for my napkin, but "All right, Frith will deal with it," said Maxim, "don't add to the confusion. Beatrice, take her out in the garden; she's scarcely seen the place yet."
He looked tired, rather jaded. I began to wish none of them had come. They had spoiled our day anyway. It was too much of an effort, just as we returned. I felt tired too, tired and depressed. Maxim had seemed almost irritable when he suggested we should go into the garden. What a fool I had been, upsetting that glass of port.
We went out onto the terrace and walked down onto the smooth green lawns.
"I think it's a pity you came back to Manderley so soon," said Beatrice, "it would have been far better to