The Golden Peaks by Eleanor Farnes

beside her digging his heel into the grass surrounding the seat .
    “I don’t like it at all,” he said at last .
    “You don’t like what?” she asked him in surprise.
    “This job of yours. This waiting at table. This being more or less obliged to go off with St. Pierre on his say-so. A girl like you—brought up as you were brought up—to have to do this menial job.”
    “Oh, I’m afraid we look at it differently, ” said Celia. “I don’t think it is menial. I admit I shouldn’t like it in most places, but the Rotihorn is different. The whole staff is so pleasant and nice and friendly. And I need a job if I am to stay here and be able to see Dorothy. Now almost any other job would still make it necessary to pay for my board and lodging—this one doesn’t. The hotel is so suitably near the rest centre. It’s practically ideal.”
    “I can't like it at all. The sister of Peter Dorrelson in such a job.”
    “Oh, Peter wouldn’t have minded at all. Peter had a common-sense outlook on life. He had all sorts of ideas for launching himself in the business world and making his way, if he came back. Peter saw at once the need for s elling up our lovely home—though if anybody loved the place, it was Peter. I guess Peter would stand behind me in this. ”
    “If you had Peter to stand behind you, I wouldn’t mind so much,” said Geoffrey.
    She looked at him, slightly puzzled.
    “Do you think I can’t look after myself?” she asked.
    “I hope you can, but I don ’ t know.” He rose from the seat, and walked away looking out over the valley and the majesty of the mountains; then he came back again and looked down on her. “Look here, Celia, I expect you’ll tell me to mind my own business, and there’s every reason why you should. I knew your brother very well, and was proud to know your mother, too; but you and I didn’t know each other and you may well resent my shoving my oar in. Hang it, this sounds like damned interference, but I do feel I ought to give you a warning.”
    She sat back, surprised.
    “A warning, Geoffrey? A warning about what?”
    He looked momentarily embarrassed.
    “Come along,” she said. “Out with it, Geoffrey. I shan’t mind whatever you say. What do you want to warn me about?”
    “Well, it's St. Pierre, as a matter of fact . ”
    “Mr. St Pierre?”
    “Look here, Celia, I’d hate you to think of me as a meddler ...”
    “I won’t , ” she assured him .
    “But, after all, you’re young and you’ve lived a sheltered life ...”
    “Not so sheltered as all that, believe me,” interrupted Celia.
    “And now you’re in a job which—well—might leave you open to—er—certain approaches ...”
    Celia laughed. It was a gay and ringing laugh, and it put Geoffrey, already embarrassed, completely out of his stride.
    “Oh, Geoffrey, you’re a dear to think about me, and I like you. And I do think you’re brave to tackle all this on my behalf. But really, I don’t need to be warned.”
    “You see, you don’t see the slightest danger.”
    “There isn’t any danger.”
    “But there is. Good lord, I know the man. Not that he isn’t a damn fine chap. I like him immensely. But he isn’t English , Celia, and you may not realize how differently he thinks on certain things. You may not even realize how delightfully frank and open you are yourself—another thing that he could misunderstand. I’ve been at the Roti horn , Celia, on and off, for years. He’s no angel, Celia.”
    “Are any of us?” she asked.
    “I didn’t like seeing you in this job at the beginning. It irked me, seemed all wrong. Then I heard he had taken you to the Mirabella; and then that you were staying here the whole summer, if possible, and it made me uneasy. ”
    “I’m sure you’ve never heard a word against Mr. St. Pierre from anybody on his staff.”
    “That’s true, but then I’ve never seen him taking out anybody on his staff—with the exception of Anneliese. ”
    “Then why