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diff --git a/37838.txt b/37838.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f78bb77 --- /dev/null +++ b/37838.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11952 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Louie, by Oliver Onions + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Story of Louie + +Author: Oliver Onions + +Release Date: October 24, 2011 [EBook #37838] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF LOUIE *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Melissa McDaniel and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + + + Transcriber's note: + + Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have + been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. + Words printed in italics in the original document are represented| + here between underscores, as in _text_; + + + + + THE STORY + OF LOUIE + + BY + OLIVER ONIONS + + Author of "In Accordance With the Evidence," + "The Debit Account," etc. + + GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY + NEW YORK + + _Publishers in America for Hodder & Stoughton_ + + + + + TO + GWLADYS + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + PROLOGUE 9 + + PART ONE + RAINHAM PARVA 25 + + PART TWO + SUTHERLAND PLACE 109 + + PART THREE + MORTLAKE ROAD 175 + + PART FOUR + PILLAR TO POST 213 + + PART FIVE + THE CONSOLIDATION 259 + + ENVOI 356 + + + + +PROLOGUE + +I + + +In an old number of _Punch_, under the heading "Society's New Pet: The +Artist's Model," is to be found a drawing by Du Maurier, of which the +descriptive text runs: + + "And how did you and Mr. Sopley come to quarrel, dear Miss + Dragon?" + + "Well, your Grace, it was like this: I was sitting to him in a + cestus for 'The Judgment of Paris,' when someone called as wished + to see him most particular; so he said: 'Don't move, Miss Dragon, + or you'll disturb the cestus.' 'Very good, sir,' I said, and off + he went; and when he come back in an hour and a 'alf or so he + said: 'You've moved, Miss Dragon!' 'I 'aven't!' I said. 'You + '_ave_!' he said. 'I 'AVEN'T!' I said--and no more I 'adn't, your + Grace. And with that I off with his cestus an' wished him + good-morning, an' I never been near him since!" + +Du Maurier may or may not have been wrong about the newness of this +craze of "Society's." If he was right, the Honourable Emily +Scarisbrick becomes at once a pioneer. Let there be set down, here in +the beginning, the plain facts of how, a good ten years before the +indignant Miss Dragon "offed with" Mr. Sopley's cestus, the Honourable +Emily found a way to bridge the gulf that lies between Bohemia and +Mayfair. + +Except in the case of one person not yet born into these pages, the +report that the lady had engaged herself, early in the year 1869, to +"Mr. Buckley, her drawing-master," had only a short currency. It was +probably devised by the Honourable Emily herself in order to soften +the blow for her brother, Lord Moone. The real name of the man to whom +she engaged herself was James Buckley Causton. Under this name he +appears on the rolls of the 4th Dragoon Guards as a trooper in the +years 1862-1867; and as "Buck" Causton he attained some celebrity +when, in the last-named year, he vanquished one Piker Betteridge in +the prize ring, in a battle which, beginning with gloves and ending +with bare knuckles, lasted for nearly nine hours. + +For all we know, it may have been Miss Dragon's Mr. Sopley who, seeing +the magnificent Buck in the ring, first put it into the ex-trooper's +head to become an artists' model. However it was, an artists' model he +did become, and, as such, the rage. No doubt Sopley, if it were he, +would gladly have kept his discovery to himself; but a neck like a +sycamore and a thorax capable of containing nine-hours-contest lungs +cannot be hid when Academy time comes round. Sopley's measure was +known. If Sopley painted an heroic picture it was certain he had had a +hero as model. The Academy opens in May; before June was out Sopley's +find was no longer his own. Sir Frederick Henson, the artist who moved +so in the world that in him the tradition of the monarch who picked up +the painter's brush for him might almost have been said to live again, +saw Buck, marked Buck down as his own, and presently had sole +possession of Buck. + +The Honourable Emily Scarisbrick already had possession of Sir +Frederick. To be sure, it neither needed a Sir Frederick Henson to +teach her the stippling of birds' eggs and the copying of castles for +the albums of her friends, nor was the great Academician accustomed to +stooping to the office of salaried drawing-master; but--the Honourable +Emily was a Scarisbrick, of Mallard Bois. + +In Henson's studio the Honourable Emily first saw Buck Causton. + +To say that she fell in love with him would demand a definition of the +term. Certainly she fell in something with him. Perhaps that something +was the something that at the last thrusts baronies and Mallard Boises +aside as hindrances to a design even larger than that in which they +play so important a part; but we have nothing to do with large designs +here. Call it what you will: something proper enough to legend, but of +little enough propriety in a modern lady's life; a feeble echo of +Romance, perhaps, but never itself to become Romance unless, of it or +present scandal, it should prove the stronger. At any rate, it was a +very different thing from anything she felt, or ever had felt, for +Captain Cecil Chaffinger, of the White Hussars, her brother's nominee +for her hand. + +It was a word dropped by the gallant Captain, himself a follower of +the fancy, that led her to the discovery that the hero of some feat or +other of extraordinary skill and endurance, and the young Ajax, all +chest and grey eyes and brown curls, who did odd jobs about the studio +in the intervals of posing for Henson's demigodlike canvases, were one +and the same person. Her already throbbing pulse bounded. She herself +was twenty-eight, a small, dark, febrile woman, given over to +discontents based on nothing save on an irremediably spoiled +childhood, and perhaps hankering after an indiscretion in the +conviction that indiscretions were of two kinds--indiscretions, and +the indiscretions of the Scarisbricks. Naturally she became conscious +of a quickened interest in her art. + +The first indication that this interest passed beyond birds eggs and +castles was that she began "Lessons in Drapery." If here for a few +moments her story becomes a little technical, it may be none the less +interesting on that account. + +The study of Drapery _as_ Drapery has not much interest for anybody +unless perhaps for a student of mechanics. For all that, it is, or +then was, regarded by drawing-masters as a self-contained subject, to +be tackled, ticked off, and thenceforward possessed. To the study of +Drapery in this unrelated sense the Honourable Emily apparently +inclined. Seeing her therefore, in this fundamental error, Sir +Frederick, a master of Drapery, took from her the "copies" which had +already supplanted the "copies" of castles in her portfolio, and +good-humouredly began to tell her what she really wanted. What she +really wanted, he said, was to rid her mind of the idea that folds +existed for their own sake, and to endeavour to realise that their +real significance lay in the thing enfolded. Miss Scarisbrick thanked +him. + +So, at first from the lay figure, and then from Henson's model, she +began to draw Drapery with special reference to the thing draped. + +About this time she gave Captain Chaffinger for an answer a "No" which +he refused to take. His devotion, he said, forbade him. If by his +devotion he meant his devotion to his creditors, his constancy +remained at their service. In the meantime he was still able to pay +his old debts by contracting new ones. + +The Honourable Emily's studies became diligent. + +There is little to be said about these things except that they do +happen. A word now about Buck's attitude. + +Had the Honourable Emily's maid thrown herself at his head he would +have known what to do. His sense of the holiness of social degrees +would have received no shock. But the Honourable Emily, who could +command her maid, could not command what in all probability her maid +would not have had to ask twice for. The most she got (when after much +that is omitted here, it did at last dawn on the bashful Buck that she +had any will in the matter at all) was a blush so sudden and violent +that it compelled an embarrassed reddening of her own cheeks also. +Buck was not personally outraged. It was his sense of Order that was +outraged. He remembered the lady's station for her, and, stammeringly +but reverentially, put her back into it. + +Now to be merely reverential to a woman who is in love with you is to +provoke impatience, anger and tears. On the other hand, to see a woman +in tears because you will not permit her to humiliate herself is to +have the other half of an impossible situation. It was one +luncheon-time (the Honourable Emily now lunched frequently at the +studio) that the tears came. + +"Oh, you don't care for me--you don't care for me!" she sobbed. + +Buck could not truthfully have said that he did care for her; but +there she was before him, in tears. + +"If it were that Dragon girl, now----" + +Buck, while not failing to see the force of this, could only make +imploring movements for the Honourable Emily to calm herself. +Presently she did calm herself, sufficiently to change her tone to one +of irony. + +"Do you read your Bible?" she shot over her shoulder. + +"Yes, miss," said Buck--"that is--I mean----" + +The reason for Buck's hesitation was that he had suddenly doubted +whether the Honourable Emily would know a Racing Calendar by the name +she had just used. + +"Do you mean _The_ Bible, miss?" he said, fidgeting. + +She snapped: "Yes--the one with the story of Joseph in it----" + +She burst into tears anew. + +"Oh, that I should have to beg a man to marry me! I hate myself--I +hate you!" + +Her hatred, however, did not prevent repetitions of the scene. At the +last repetition that need trouble us here her tears conquered. The +helpless Buck comforted her after the only fashion he knew anything +about--the fashion he would have used towards her maid--on his knee. + +He still, however, called her "Miss." + +They were privately married in the June of 1869. + + * * * * * + +"_Don't_ call me 'Miss'!" she broke out petulantly one day in the +middle of the honeymoon. "And you are _not_ to have your meals with +the servants! I shall lunch in my room to-day, and you are to be ready +to take me out at three o'clock." + +"Yes, m'm," said Buck. + + * * * * * + +Probably Lord Moone had less to do than he supposed with the +separation that took place in the September of the same year. We may +assume that a much more potent factor was the Honourable Mrs. +Causton's remembrance of her own words, "That I should have to beg a +man to marry me! I hate myself--I hate you!" She did very soon hate +both herself and him. Poor Buck merely hated the whole subversive +anomaly. + +He accepted the proposal that they should separate with perfect +docility. It seemed to him entirely right. Indeed the only thing he +had not accepted with docility had been his introduction to Lord +Moone, on the only occasion on which the two men ever met, as "Mr. +Buckley, the drawing-master." Buck hadn't liked that much. He had made +himself Buck Causton in nine hours of terrific combat, and as Buck +Causton he preferred to be known. But all else he suffered with +touching obedience, and at the proposal that they should go their +several ways his finger flew to his forehead. + +"Yes, miss," he said; and his heart, if not his lips, murmured the +prayer that begins: "God bless the Squire and his relations----" + +They parted. + +They only met once more. This was in the January of the following +year, in the great antlered hall at Mallard Bois, that was as +regularly used on all occasions as if there had not been salons and +galleries and drawing-rooms in a dozen other parts of the great place. +The Honourable Mrs. Causton lay on a couch drawn up to the fire-dogs; +her husband looked submissively down on her, dwarfing the suit of +armour of Big Hugo by which he stood. + +She made a new proposal. It was that he should put it into her hands +to set herself free once for all. + +"Yes, miss," said Buck. + + * * * * * + +"Then," said the Honourable Mrs. Causton a quarter of an hour later, +"there's the question of cruelty." + +Buck's thoughts wandered slowly back to the Piker. + +"Yes, miss," he said. + +"I need hardly tell you that as far as--er--procedure--can be +stretched it will be stretched." + +"Yes, miss. Thank you, miss." + +Then wistfully Buck's eyes wandered from Big Hugo's suit of armour to +his wife's face again. + +"Beg your pardon, about that cruelty, miss," he said unhappily. +"Couldn't I go down--just for once, Miss--as Mr. Buckley?" + +"No; but I can assure you that _I_ don't want this talked about more +than must be either. Perhaps I ought to tell you that I shall probably +marry again." + +Buck's finger went to his forehead again, this time in a duty to his +successor. Then his eyes grew grave. His wife had made a slight +movement. + +"If I might make so bold, miss--there's another thing----" + +She knew what he meant. + +"You've nothing to do with that," she said quickly. + +Buck would have thought that he had, but if a lady said he hadn't, +well, he hadn't, that was all. + +"Yes, miss.... And asking your pardon again--about that cruelty?" + +"Oh, that's over," said Mrs. Causton, closing her eyes. "Six months +ago." + +"I--I don't remember," said Buck; but once more, if a lady said it was +so, so it was. Again the grave look came into his eyes, and again she +understood. + +"I can have it looked after better than you can," she said. + +"And--please--you will?" he dared to supplicate. + +She nodded. + +Still he hesitated. + +"If it's a little boy, miss--I might be opening a Sparring +Academy--strictly for the gentry--I wouldn't charge him nothing----" + +And after a little further discussion the shameful piece of collusion +came to an end. + +They were divorced in the March of 1870. On the 15th of April the +child was born--a girl. Fifteen months later the Honourable Emily +married Captain Cecil Chaffinger, of the White Hussars. + + +II + +The child never got on well with her mother. Mrs. Chaffinger never +forgave her her paternity. The gallant Captain, on the other hand, +treated her as he would have treated his own child--that is to say, he +bought her extravagant toys if the proximity of a toyshop put it into +his head to do so, pinched her arms and cheeks and neck jocularly +whenever he found her head at the level of his waistcoat, and then +departed, as likely as not to pinch maturer arms and necks, not Mrs. +Chaffinger's, elsewhere. He took his wife's former _mesalliance_ with +perfect serenity. She had paid his debts and enabled him to spend a +day or two in his father's house when he cared to do so, and the +Captain, who was a gentleman and not very much else to boast of, held +faithfully to his part of the bargain. He even dropped in once or +twice at Buck Causton's new _Salle d'Armes_ in Bruton Street. The +child was called by his name--Louise Chaffinger; he called her Mops, +because of her quantities of thick brown hair. The Honourable Emily +became querulous and an invalid; took to falling into dozes no matter +who was present, and waking up again with alarming cries; and she +busied herself with charitable works performed in an uncharitable +temper. + +Louie was not pretty; but the jocular Captain pinched no prettier neck +than hers, and he declared, as the child grew, that her "points" would +be best displayed could she go about in the largest and shadiest hat +and the most closely fitting tights possible. His house (which, by the +way, he had begun to encumber again) was Trant, in Buckinghamshire; +but the child was packed off occasionally, to be rid of her, to +Mallard Bois, Lord Moone's seat, there to romp with her cousin, Eric +Scarisbrick, already preparing for Eton, and such small fry as climbed +trees and cheeked the gardeners with him. Here she revelled in the +liberty that was denied her at home; and perhaps she already realised +instinctively that her mother's relief at having her out of the way +was tempered only by the invalid's resentment that the child could be +happy out of her own not very cheerful company. Be that as it may, the +girl was told, at twelve years of age, that she was getting too big to +kick these limbs her stepfather so admired about among growing boys. +She was given half-long skirts and French and English governesses: the +French one, though she did not yet know it, as a preparation for +sending her to a Paris convent. + +At fourteen years of age she had not heard of the man whose grey eyes +and perfect shapeliness of body she inherited. The Scarisbricks, be +sure, had allowed that episode to be hushed up. But the day was bound +to come when she should hear of the Honourable Mrs. Causton and +identify that lady with her mother. The day did come, no matter how; +and, inwardly trembling but outwardly resolved, she sought her mother. +Mrs. Chaffinger had just come with a cry out of a doze. Her daughter +demanded to be told who the Honourable Mrs. Causton was. She was told +that there was no such person. + +"Then who was she?" the girl demanded. There were few of her questions +to her mother that were not demands. + +"Who's been telling you about her?" + +That did not seem to Louie to matter. She repeated the question. + +"She was a very great fool," Mrs. Chaffinger snapped. "Why aren't you +with Mademoiselle?" + +"Who was she besides being a very great fool?" the child persisted. + +It had to come out. + +"Then papa _isn't_ my father?" Louie said, pale. All through her life +she was pale in her moments of stress. + +"I'm your mother, and I tell you to go to your French lesson at once." + +But Louie did not move. + +"Then who was my father?" she asked. + +"Who do you suppose he is, when I was Mrs. Causton?" + +"Is?... Then he isn't dead?" + +Mrs. Chaffinger compressed her lips. + +"I was going to tell you all about Mr. Causton all in good time" (her +daughter looked coldly unbelieving), "but since you are here I'll tell +you now. Sit down on that chair and stop fidgeting----" + +And she told the girl the facts, not to be denied, of the divorcing of +Buck. + +The end of the matter was that Louie now hated, not only her mother, +but her father also. + +Her stepfather she thenceforward addressed as "Chaff." He liked it. + +Three months later she was sent to Paris. + +Eight months later still she turned up again, not at Trant, but at the +Captain's club in London. She announced that she had run away from the +convent and did not intend to return to it. Her arrival, though not +unwelcome, was inopportune, for the Captain had a little party that +evening and seemed disconcerted. The toyshops, he reflected, were +closed, and then he looked at his stepdaughter again.... It could not, +after all, have been one of the more characteristic of the Captain's +parties, for he took Louie to it, pigtail and all, and for a whole +evening pinched nobody. Then he took her to his chambers, winked at +his man in token of something extraordinary, hesitated, and then, with +an "Oh, be hanged to it!" expression, gave Louie the key of his own +sleeping apartment. Louie examined his prints a little wonderingly, +but approved of his ribboned haircurlers and large frilled pincushion, +and then went to sleep. The next day the Captain took her down to +Trant and left her there. + +The next few years were a constant succession of wrangles with her +mother. She had flatly refused to return to the convent, and if the +Honourable Emily was petulant, her daughter was merciless. She had +been put off with the drawing-master version of her mother's marriage, +but that was enough; she held it over her mother's head, and Buck, if +he had desired revenge, had it. She knew herself to be hybrid, and +treated the Scarisbricks and their drawing-masters with equal scorn. +Worse, she treated them equally with a contemptuous tolerance. She +harped with pride on the baser strain. In a word, there was no doing +anything with her. + +She reached the age of twenty-one. + +At twenty-two she expressed a wish to go on the stage. The Captain, +who was genuinely fond of her, stopped that. At twenty-three she +declared plainly that "a girl in her position" ought to have a means +of earning her own living--not necessarily drawing. The Captain being +averse from this also, she took the matter into her own hands by +writing to the secretary of a Horticultural College in Somersetshire, +paying her fees, and enrolling herself as a student without saying a +word to anybody. She packed her boxes, and in the second week of +January 1894 presented herself before her mother, dressed for +travelling, and announced that she had very little time in which to +catch her train. + +"Oh, by the way," she said, turning at the door, "if you write, you +might address letters to me in my own name--Causton." + +Then she left. + + * * * * * + +"_Was die Mutter traeumt, das vollbringt die Tochter._" Here, with its +repetitions of and its departures from that of the Honourable Emily, +follows her story. + + + + +PART I + +RAINHAM PARVA + + +I + +The Horticultural College at Rainham Parva, now defunct, was hardly a +college in the modern sense at all. Its technical books were +antiquated; it had only one or two old microscopes; and it totally +lacked the newer trimmings of specialisation. Its founder, a Bristol +seedsman called Chesson, had bought the place cheaply, house and all, +a dozen years before, and having five hardy daughters eating their +heads off at home, had, as the saying is, economically emancipated +them. That meant then (whatever it may mean now) that, realising that +the wages of two men and a boy might be saved, he had had them down to +Rainham Parva and had set them to work. + +The second Miss Chesson, Miss Harriet, had shown a real aptitude for +the work. She had won, after three years, a Diploma, and this Diploma, +together with the presence in the house as paying boarder of a niece +of Chesson's, had put an idea into the seedsman's head--the premium +idea. With the Diploma properly advertised, its grantee made +Principal, a premium or so forgone (called a Scholarship) and the +proper person installed over all as Lady-in-Charge, Chesson had +foreseen a good deal of his work being done by young women who would +pay for the privilege of being allowed to do it. There is no need to +describe the development of the idea. The enterprise had prospered, +and when Louie Causton had put her name down on the books and paid her +fees the complement of thirty girls was full. + +She did not, after all, travel down alone. Her stepfather, hinting +that it was not necessary to say anything about this to her mother, +made the journey with her. The pair of them shortened the hours by +guessing which of the young women in the same train were to be Louie's +fellow-students; and when they alighted at Rainham Magna station the +Captain put Louie and her traps into one of the nondescript vehicles +that only saw the light when the Rainham girls arrived or departed, +and drove off with her to the college. There he shook hands with the +Lady-in-Charge, Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, and asked her whether she was +related to Lovenant-Smith of the 24th. Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's reply did +not actually affirm her regret that she was so related, but the +Captain's affability dried up suddenly. He was returning to town by +the four-o'clock train; before doing so he took a turn round the place +with Louie. + +"Well," he said, as Louie took her leave of him at the gates, "it's a +good growing country, I should say; rum idea of yours though.... +You've heard me speak of Lovenant-Smith, haven't you? Adjutant eight +or nine years ago; not a bad chap at all, _I_ should have said. She'll +be one of the Shropshire lot, I expect. I knew he had people down +there.... Well, mind you don't run away with a gardener. 'Bye, +Mops----" + +And he was off, tugging at his moustache and inwardly commenting that +the whole escapade was "just like Louie." + +It was a good growing country. Chesson said that the mildness of the +winters was due to the Gulf Stream; Miss Harriet Chesson attributed it +to ozone--ozone having been a word to conjure with at the time when +she had taken her Diploma. Ozone or Gulf Stream, it provided wild +violets in December, lemon-verbena that grew in trees up the sides of +the cottages and had to be cut away from the upper windows, and filled +the deep lanes with the hart's-tongue fern. It also brought forth rich +produce. The dairy business and poultry farm flourished; crates and +parcels and returned empties kept the goods clerk at Rainham Magna +station busy; and, when the heather bloomed on the hill that rose +between Chesson's and the sea, the "Rainham Heather Honey," green as +bronze and thick as glue, was at a premium. At the crest of the hill +the seedsman's estate ended. Beyond that, dropping abruptly to the +west, lay deep wooded coombes, green to the very rocks of the shore. + +Louie's age put her at once out of the class of the "new girl" who, in +the school tales, sits pathetically on her box and waits for somebody +to speak to her. She was twenty-four, and probably only one other +student, the copper-haired girl with the long thin neck and the +"salt-cellars" showing through her white flannel blouse, who asked her +her number and offered to show her the way to her cubicle, was more +than twenty-two. Her large black feathered hat (see the first part of +the Captain's advice as to how she would make the most of herself), +and her expensively simple navy blue coat and skirt down to her toes, +further distinguished her among the tweed jackets and ankle-length +skirts of the younger girls. No doubt she had her perfect management +of these and her numerous other garments from her mother's former +interest in the study of Drapery. If the Captain did not think her +face pretty, it must be remembered that the Captain had standards of +prettiness of his own. Pretty in the professional-beauty sense her +irregular mouth and long chin perhaps were not. Her large, clear, +pebble-grey eyes at any rate were arresting. + +The copper-haired girl, having shown Louie her cubicle, offered to +show her the rest of the house also. They began upstairs on the first +floor, where the girls slept. The place was an old mansion in the form +of a hollow square, and as they came to each latticed embrasure Louie +stopped to look at the famous Rainham yew that almost filled the +grassgrown inner courtyard. The corridors were dark, and sudden steps +where no steps were to have been expected made of the uneven floors a +series of booby-traps for those not familiar with them. Memories of +the Monmouth Rebellion seemed to linger round the corners and to be +shut up in the cupboards of the place. They passed downstairs. Through +the doorway of the handsome Restoration facade they saw the yew again, +dark beyond the shining flags of the hall. Louie had already been in +the reception-room and Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's private apartments on the +right of the doorway; on the left, she was told, were the quarters of +Miss Harriet (who alone of Chesson's daughters remained there) and the +staff. The domestics slept at the top of the house; the four male +gardeners (all married) occupied the farm a furlong away at the back. + +"But wouldn't you like some tea?" said the copper-haired girl. "It's +in the dining-room." + +"I was told to report myself to Miss Chesson at five," said Louie, +looking at her watch. + +"Well, you've just time, if you're quick----" + +They sought the room where the housekeeper ran cups of tea from the +tap of a large and funereal bronze urn. + +It was ten minutes to five when Louie entered the dining-room. Before +the clock had struck five she had taken a certain position in the +college. + +She herself hardly knew how it happened. The room was full of noise +and chatter, and near Louie, talking louder and making more noise than +anybody else, was a lanky child of sixteen, to be a tall blonde beauty +in another three or four years' time, but so far only a mass of +unadjusted proportions and movements that lacked co-ordination. She +had several distinct voices, and in one of these she was now engaged +in unabashed mimicry. Louie, who had got her cup of tea, heard a +bell-like "_Os_-trich feathers!" and she was about to put a question +to the copper-haired girl when, with a mock reverence and an explosive +"Your _Ma_-jesty!" the child swept backwards into her. She barely +saved her cup of tea. The girl gave a quick turn; her "Clum----" was +changed to a "Sorry!" as she saw a new face, and Louie smiled. + +"Your feet were all wrong," Louie said. + +The blonde child turned eagerly again. + +"Can you do it?" she asked. + +The next moment, before Louie could get out "A drawing-room curtsy? +Yes," the child had cried: "Girls! Girls! Here's somebody who knows +how to do it! Do come and show us!" + +"Really?" said Louie, smiling, and handing her cup of tea to the +copper-haired girl. + +"Yes--come here, Rhoda, and watch (that's my sister--she's to be +presented, you know)." + +Louie laughed. "Quickly then--I have to see Miss Chesson----" + +And, pushed unceremoniously forward, and still in her feathered hat +and navy blue costume, Louie made her first bow to her fellow-students +at Chesson's in the deep and swanlike genuflexion she had practised +with her cousin, Cynthia Scarisbrick, a couple of years before. Then +she ran out, smiling. + +"_How_ ripping!" she heard somebody say as she did so. "I expect she's +been presented." + +Louie sought Miss Harriet. + +The Principal, a businesslike, damson-complexioned woman of +forty-five, with a deerstalker hat on her close-cropped curly hair, +asked her what course of study she proposed to take. Louie replied (in +other words) that all courses were the same to her. Miss Harriet had +had that kind of student before. She asked a few further questions, +and then put Louie down for the elementary course. She dismissed her +with a marked syllabus and a copy of the Rules. + +Louie read the Rules, nodded, as much as to say, "I thought so!" and +then laughed. There was no need to ask who had drawn them up; she +remembered the frigid way in which Chaff had been put into his place +that afternoon. There was a serenity about them that transcended the +ordinary imperative mood. "_Students do not absent themselves from +Morning Prayers or Divine Service without Permission._" "_Students do +not give Orders to the Gardeners or Domestics._" "_Students do not +pass beyond the Bounds of the College (Map appended)._" If on occasion +students did all of these things, that did not detract from the +_largior ether_ in which the Rules were conceived. + +Nor did mere evidence to the contrary ever in the least degree abate +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's persuasion that the young ladies of Chesson's, +being the daughters of gentlefolk, were by that very fact almost to be +trusted to do without Rules at all. + +On the following morning Louie, with leggings of doe-skin buttoned to +her knees (see the second of the Captain's recommendations for the +attire that suited her best), and wearing a wide-pocketed jacket not +unlike a man's, began the practical study of Horticulture. + + +II + +She was attached to the "posse" of six girls of which the +copper-haired student, whose name was Richenda Earle, was the head. +This girl, as the holder of the scholarship mentioned a page or two +back, was the single non-fee-paying student in the place. Her father +was a bookseller in Westbourne Grove, and she had kept his books for +him before coming to Chesson's. She had picked up her knowledge of +book-keeping at an obscure and ill-appointed Business School in +Holborn, but, her health being anything but robust, she had taken up +gardening under the impression that it was an out-of-doors pursuit. It +was only this at Chesson's to a strictly limited extent. Whatever +students did or did not learn, the output for the market had to be +maintained, and this necessitated, for days and days together, work in +the twelve long glass-houses, from the humid heat of which the girls +came out limp and listless and relaxed. Richenda Earle suffered from +these depressions more than most of them, and now only remained at the +college because Miss Harriet had held out hopes for her of a place on +the staff. She was easily head of all the classes of which she was a +member, but was hopelessly incapable of making her personality felt. +Add to all this that she was avid of popularity, and that her +self-consciousness took the form of making her more assertive +(without being a bit more effective) than any girl in the college, and +you will see why Louie felt a little sorry for her without taking to +her very much. She for her part had fastened herself on Louie from the +start, and had been the first to put the question that Louie had had +to answer a dozen times before she had been at Chesson's two hours. + +"No, I haven't been presented," Louie had said, finding herself +waylaid almost at the door of Miss Harriet's room as she had come out +again. "My cousin has; that's where I learned it. We practised it +together." + +"I've seen them go in," Richenda had murmured, a little wistfully, a +little dully; "the carriages and things, you know. I live in London." + +Thereupon she had volunteered some of the information stated above, as +if inviting a confidence in return. "I'm glad you're in my posse," she +had concluded, as Louie had turned away without giving any information +whatever about herself. + +The remaining members of "Earle's posse" were the two Burnett sisters +("B Major," the girl who was to be presented, and "B Minor," the +sixteen-year-old beauty-to-be), a Scotch girl called Macfarlane, and +one other girl, half French, Beatrice Pigou. There were four other +posses at the college, and each was told off each day to put itself +under the direction of one or other of the four gardeners, to pot, +"prick out," water or whatever the task might be. The gardener at +present in charge of Louie's posse was a sullen young Apollo called +Priddy, whose face and neck and forearms ozone or the Gulf Stream had +turned to the hue of some deep and old and mellow violin; and Burnett +Minor and the younger girls, talking in terms of the life to which +their eyes were yet sealed, discussed Priddy with a freedom perfectly +innocent and entirely appalling. + +Louie had not been at Rainham Parva two days before she was wondering +whether after all she wanted to stay. She didn't know really why she +had come. Not one of the three commonest reasons for girls being +there--a stepmother, to be able to earn a little pocket-money, or to +get over a youthful love-affair--quite fitted her case. And then there +were those ridiculous Rules. She supposed that if she stayed she would +be on the same footing as the juniors, and she hardly thought she +could submit to that. Not that the Rules did not seem to justify +themselves; on the contrary, they did. Merely because Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith affirmed that students did not do this or that, +students as a matter of fact either did not do these things, or else +consented to class themselves as transgressors when they did. + +But Louie's own attitude in the face of a prohibited thing, inherited +from her mother and now made inveterate by her upbringing, was +invariably that of a wonder what would happen were the prohibition to +be disregarded. + +It was just a wonder, nothing more. + +Then, on the night of her third day at Chesson's, she made up her mind +to forfeit her fees and leave in the morning. The reason for her +decision was this: + +During the vacation certain digging had been allowed by the gardeners +to fall into arrears; and Earle's posse, together with another set of +six girls, had been set to do it. Now digging was the hardest work the +girls were ever called upon to do, and at the beginning of the term at +any rate they were spared it as much as possible. But education or +output required that this digging should be done, and accordingly the +twelve girls had digged for the whole morning, and in the afternoon +had varied the labour by carrying heavy pots from House No. 6 to House +No. 10--a distance of perhaps sixty yards. The next morning twelve +girls (or rather eleven, for Burnett Minor's unset muscles had +suffered but little) were half incapacitated by stiffness, and that +night there was an outcry for hot baths and arnica. Louie, clad in +dressing-gown and slippers and carrying her soap and sponge and towel, +hobbled to the bathrooms, and came, in the box-room, upon an +indignation-meeting. + +This box-room was the common meeting-ground for students who awaited +their turns at the baths. It lay over the back courtyard arch, and the +four bathrooms adjoined it, two on either side. It was piled almost to +the ceiling with trunks and boxes and dress-baskets, the white +initials of which glimmered in the shadows cast by a couple of candles +on the floor; but there were isolated boxes enough to make seats for +the seven or eight girls already assembled there. They had slippers on +their naked feet and single garments on their aching bodies; and on +one of Louie's own boxes Burnett Major was peering at the little blue +flame of a spirit-kettle and mixing in a row of cups the paste for +that beverage of revolt--cocoa. Burnett Minor had traitorously turned +the general righteous anger to private account, had "bagged" the +hottest bath, and was now carolling at the top of her lungs in the +right-hand bathroom. + +"----then if Earle won't do it I vote we draw lots!" Macfarlane was +exclaiming shrilly as Louie opened the door. "Those lazy louts of +gardeners are supposed to have all the digging done before we come +up----" + +They were not--not if Chesson knew it; but "Of course they are!" cried +five voices at once. + +"Well, I'm just not going to stand it--there----" + +"And I'm not----" + +"Nor me----" + +"And for two pins I'd tell Priddy so!" + +There was a moment's silence, but only because, all having spoken at +once, all had to take breath at once. + +"It's abominable----" + +"Disgusting----" + +"Cela m'embete----" + +"Here's Causton--what do _you_ vote, Causton?" they cried, turning to +her. + +"What about?" Louie asked. + +"Why, everything, of course--this beastly place--and setting us to dig +the first week--and Priddy's beastly cheek----" + +Then every tongue was unloosed. + +"_And_ a row every time we want an extra blouse washed----" + +"_And_ washing two guineas a term extra----" + +"_And_ only the vuggles for dinner that aren't good enough for the +market----" ("Vuggles" were vegetables.) + +Another pause for breath. + +"Let's what-d'-you-call-it--strike----" + +Louie laughed as she sat stiffly down by Burnett Major. + +"Oh, I'll vote for anything you like; I don't care," she said. + +Then they began anew. + +"Earle's head of the posse--_she_ ought to do it----" + +Richenda Earle's voice broke in in loud complaint. + +"How _can_ I? You know I would like a shot if it wasn't for my +scholarship. But I should just be told that if I didn't like it I +could go. Elwell's head of your lot. Elwell ought to go." + +"I don't care who goes, but I will _not_ be told to do things by +Priddy." + +"Priddy!----" + +(Louie smiled again as there came from the bathroom the joyful voice: + +"_Early one mo-o-orning--as the su-un was a-rising!_----") + +"And those pots hadn't got to be moved--he was only making work----" + +"--gros tyran!----" + +"--like they kept us three weeks grading and packing tomatoes last +autumn, and called it 'study'----" + +"--and the bruised ones for us----" + +"--not even fit for ketchup----" + +"--Dothegirls Hall _this_ establishment ought to be called!----" + +Another momentary pause: then: + +"--let's all sign a petition----" + +"--no, a what-d'you-call-it--an ultimatum----" + +"--just telling them straight----" + +"Your bath, Earle----" + +From the bathroom had come the gurgle of escaping water. Boiled pink, +turbaned with her towel, smelling of somebody else's scented soap and +radiating unrepentance that Earle's bath must be a tepid one, Burnett +Minor bounced in. + +"Friends, Romans, countrymen, do lend me a dry towel, just to finish +with. Oh, Causton, the curtsy, now that I've something loose on! +Crocks! My cocoa, Major, and who said Priddy just now? 'Students do +not fall in love with Priddy.' (I sha'n't hush.) Sugar, Mac, and, +Causton, I wish you'd do my hair your way, just to see how it +looks----" + +And, twirling twice in the midst of a corolla of pink cashmere +dressing-gown, she sank to the floor and began to nurse a chilblain on +her heel. + +Louie, her hands behind her head, leaned back and watched the scene +with the greatest amusement. A master-rebel herself, she knew that +here was no rebellion. The meeting, like other meetings, was merely +letting off steam, and the girls who "wouldn't stand it" would be +standing it exactly the same on the morrow. Well, on the morrow she +herself would be off. Her boxes were only half unpacked; half-an-hour +would put the other things back again. Already she saw that this +Chesson's was an imposition. In the meantime, the indignation meeting +was very amusing. She felt almost motherly towards these tractable +revolutionaries. Her indulgence became still greater as they spoke out +again. + +"Another thing," a girl of Elwell's posse demanded; "why couldn't I go +to Rainham yesterday to have my photograph taken?" + +("Break the camera," Burnett Minor murmured to the chilblain.) + +"And just because somebody'd bagged my boots and I was five minutes +late the other day----" + +"Je m'en fiche pas mal----" Pigou began. + +("Parly Angly, voo affectay feele," from Burnett Minor.) + +"I should like to see one of the gardeners at home looking at us the +way Priddy does----" + +"Or Miss Harriet either for that matter--she's only a sort of +forewoman----" + +"--applewoman----" + +"--tomatoes----" + +"--that's all she is really----" + +"--nothing else----" + +Louie laughed outright. Another gurgle had come from the bathroom, and +Earle reappeared. Her announcement that the water was now cold added +to the general sense of wrong. + +"Not even enough hot water!" + +"Scarcely a drop, ever!----" + +"Odious!" + +"Then will somebody come into my cubicle and rub me--not you, B +Minor." + +("Just give a squint out of the window, Elwell.") + +("It's all right. Her lights are out. Lovey's too.") + +"Well, I _won't_ have a cold bath, to please Lovey or anybody else!" + +Nor did Louie want one. She had risen. She moved to the window that +looked out over the courtyard yew--the window from which watch was +kept to see when Miss Harriet and Mrs. Lovenant-Smith retired--and +yawned. In the middle of her yawn she suddenly laughed again. + +"Good gracious!" she thought. It was too amusing. + +Suddenly Richenda Earle, who also was standing by the window, spoke to +her. Evidently Richenda did not think she had been fairly treated by +the meeting. + +"Do _you_ think they ought to ask me to?" she complained. + +Louie turned. + +"To ask you to what?" + +"To complain to Miss Harriet--me, the only Scholarship girl." + +Louie shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. "Oh, they won't complain to +Miss Harriet!" + +"No--but one doesn't like to refuse things----" Earle said in injured +tones. + +Before Louie would have had time to reply to this, had she thought of +replying to it, a diversion occurred. Nobody had heard steps +approaching, but all at once the door opened, and Authority, in the +person, not of Miss Harriet, but of Mrs. Lovenant-Smith herself, stood +looking in. The hubbub ceased as the boiling of a kettle ceases when +cold water is poured in. Several of the conspirators rose to their +feet; Burnett Minor, making no bones about it, bolted behind a box. +Great is even the look of Authority; it was almost a superfluity when +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith asked in measured tones from the doorway: "What is +the meaning of this?" + +Already the tails of two dressing-gowns had vanished out of the other +door. + +"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Lovenant-Smith asked again. + +Then she looked round to see on whom to fasten her displeasure. + +Louie saw her look, and instantly fathomed its purpose. She and +Richenda Earle stood by the window, as it were the dramatic centre of +some Rembrandtesque composition to which all else was merely +contributory. The Scholarship girl was going to get into a row. She, +Louie, had lived for years among rows; and was leaving anyway on the +morrow. + +Before the "Miss Earle" had passed Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's lips Louie +had stepped forward. + +"We've been waiting for our baths," she said. + +Perhaps already Mrs. Lovenant-Smith would have preferred Richenda +Earle to Louie; there is expediency even in Authority; but the +challenge, if it was that, was a public one. Mrs. Lovenant-Smith +turned to Louie. + +"Do you know what time it is?" she asked freezingly. + +It pleased Louie to take Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's question _au pied de la +lettre_. + +"I'm afraid my watch is in my cubicle. I could tell you in a moment," +she said. + +This the Lady-in-Charge saw fit to ignore. She drew her own watch from +her belt. + +"It is ten minutes past eleven," she said. "Students are not out of +bed at ten minutes past eleven. Neither are candles burning. Miss +Earle----" + +But again Louie interposed. After all, it was rough on the Scholarship +girl. + +"Miss Earle came in only a moment ago to send us to bed," she +affirmed, without a tremor. + +"Then," said Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, turning to Louie, and perhaps +feeling herself once more headed off, "you, Miss Causton, as a new +student, are perhaps not yet familiar with the Rules. Be so good as to +come to me at ten o'clock to-morrow morning and I will explain them to +you." + +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith did not make the discomfited rebels file out past +her. She herself retired with dignity. Students do not linger in the +box-room when it is made known that they are expected to go to bed at +once. + +But no sooner had the door closed on Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's back than +the pent-up general breath escaped again in a fluttering exhalation. +In it were awe, delight, homage. + +"Oh, Causton!" somebody breathed. "You _are_ a brick!" + +"_Isn't_ she?" + +"Wasn't it stunning of her?" + +"You'd have caught it, Earle!" + +"I saw it in her eye!" + +"But I say, Causton, you'll get a wigging!" + +"She didn't speak to you, you know!" + +"You cut in----" + +Louie felt quite confused, so much did they make of so little. + +"Good gracious," she said, "what are you all talking about? That's +nothing, especially as I was thinking of leaving in any case +to-morrow." + +There was consternation in the box-room. Had Rebellion found its +leader only to lose her again immediately? + +"Leaving!" + +"Oh, I sha'n't leave till after ten o'clock now, you may be sure," +Louie laughed. + +"But--oh, I _say_!" + +The dismayed voices dropped. There was a blank silence. It was only +after half-a-minute that Burnett Minor, who had issued from cover +again, begged: "Don't leave, Causton." + +"Oh, I shouldn't leave because of anything like this," said Louie, +enormously amused at the thought. "The place is a fraud--that's why I +should leave." + +"Oh, don't leave," another girl begged. + +"Well, we'll see what she says to-morrow." + +"She can't be _too_ down on you----" + +"Not the first time----" + +Something that can only be described as a pleasant hardening came into +Louie's grey eyes. Her laugh dropped a note. She looked at the adoring +faces. + +"That's just what I mean," she said. "If she _is_----" + +"What?----" + +"I'll stay." + +And that also her stepfather would have described as "just like +Louie." + + +III + +Punctually at ten o'clock on the morrow Louie knocked at the door of +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's office or drawing-room--it was both--and +entered. Mrs. Lovenant-Smith was writing at an escritoire that was not +big enough to accommodate her elbows, and so supported her braceleted +wrists only. There was something contradictory about her attitude. Its +rectitude as she sat at the inconvenient little desk suggested that +she expected Louie, her turn, pause and inquiring "Well?" that she did +not. Louie's observant eyes had already noticed a curious +inconsistency about the Lady-in-Charge. A great number of things +seemed to lie on the tip of her tongue, ready, apparently against her +own better judgment, to be detached from it by a perfectly-timed +fillip of opposition. + +And Louie had only to remember the word or two with which she had +dashed Chaff's affability to be fairly sure that though cocoa and +candles in the box-room at eleven o'clock at night might seem a good +enough reason for the present interview, as like as not another lay +behind it. She stood just within the door. + +"Well, Miss Causton?" + +"I think you told me to come here at ten o'clock." + +"Ah, yes. Please to wait a moment." + +Louie listened to the squeaking of her quill and the faint jingling at +her wrists as she continued to write. + +When Mrs. Lovenant-Smith turned again it was almost as if she had +thought better of something or other--say of an encounter with this +long-chinned, grey-eyed girl who stood, not dressed for gardening, but +in a long grey morning frock, looking at her from the door. + +"I merely wished to impress on you, Miss Causton, that the Rules must +be observed," she said. "I believe there is a copy of them on the +smaller bureau by your right hand there. Take it and be so good as to +study it. That is all I wished to say." + +Louie did not believe the last sentence, but no disbelief showed in +her eyes. She inclined her head, but watched Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, +waiting for more. She thought that if she waited more would come. It +did. Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, having just dismissed Louie, rescinded the +decision by speaking again. + +"You are older than the others," she said, "and it ought not to be too +much to expect of you that you will set a good example." + +Louie, perhaps gratuitously, read a meaning into the words. Perhaps +you guess what it was. Many of the older people of her world still +remembered her mother's first marriage, and Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, +though Louie did not like the look of her, was still undeniably of her +world. With Louie herself the drawing-master theory of her paternity +had long since gone by the board; the girl had not rested until she +had discovered that her father was Buck Causton, pugilist and artists' +model, none other; and if Mrs. Lovenant-Smith had ever chanced to +hear of her as Louise Chaffinger, and identified that person under the +name which (whether from pride, spleen, sensitiveness or what not) she +had since reassumed, there would probably be something very near the +tip of her tongue indeed. And just as Buck had always been a pale +fighter, so Louie's own mixed blood, though it might surge at her +heart, left her cheeks untinged in moments of stress. She still stood, +making no motion to go. + +"I don't think I quite follow you," she said slowly. "Why do you say +that something 'ought not to be too much to expect'?" + +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith stiffened and drew in again. + +"It is not necessary to follow me," she said. "You will find all that +is necessary in the Rules. You may keep that copy; Rule 6 is the one I +wish especially to call your attention to. Would you be so good as to +pass me that bell as you go out--the small brass one on the cabinet +there?" + +She half turned to her writing again. + +("Good gracious, what next!" thought Louie.) + +The bell was a small Dutch figure in a metal farthingale, and Louie +passed it. As she did so she glanced at the hand that took it. Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith's face was wrinkled like a dried apple, and the hand, +though beautifully kept, was wrinkled too, and had, moreover, rather +stumpy nails. Louie's own hands were exquisite. The bell passed from +hand to hand. + +Whether or not it was the glance at the hands, suddenly the word too +much dropped from the tip of Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's tongue. She put the +bell down with a little clap. + +"The Rules of the college are not called into question," she said. "So +far they have proved quite sufficient for the kind of student the +college was founded for. By the way, why are you not dressed for the +gardens?" + +("'Kind of student'--good--gracious!" Louie cried in astonishment to +herself. "Very well, madam----") + +She spoke calmly, looking modestly down at her long cashmere skirt, +but taking in her lovely hands (which toyed with the copy of the +Rules) on the way. + +"My dress?" she said. "Oh, I wasn't sure whether I should be staying +or not." + +Louie knew perfectly well that her leaving would make, at any rate +until her cubicle should be filled again, a difference of something +like sixty pounds a year, with extras, to Chesson's. That is rather a +lot of money to hang upon a mere breach of Rule 6. Perhaps Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith betrayed herself in the quickness with which she took +her up. + +"Do you mean you're thinking of leaving?" she asked. + +Louie, who had lifted her eyes for a moment, dropped them demurely +again. + +"I mean," she replied, "that I didn't know whether _you_ were going to +dismiss _me_ or not. You see, you may not want my--kind of student. +I'd rather not be in any way considered as an exception," she added. + +Had Mrs. Lovenant-Smith known Louie better she would have known that +she had now no intention whatever of leaving. As it was, there +probably came into her head the thought that after all Louie was a +Scarisbrick and a niece of Lord Moone. Ladies-in-charge of +horticultural colleges do not fall foul of the Honourable Emily and +Lord Moone. All at once her severity relaxed--but she hated Louie +thenceforward that it must be so. She smiled a little, but the smile +had a twitch in it. + +"I don't think we need go quite to that extreme, Miss Causton," she +said. "All the same, I'm afraid the Rules are necessary." + +"I dare say," said Louie. + +"And so long as that is understood, that is the chief thing. In regard +to candles in particular, in an old place like this there is always +the danger of fire. In fact, I'm not at all sure that a fire drill +ought not to be instituted. May I add that I quite appreciated the +chivalrous way in which you tried to shield Miss Earle last night? +Indeed, I wanted to say that quite as much as the other. I think that +is all. Good-morning, Miss Causton." + +"Good-morning," said Louie, stalking out. + +As she crossed the Restoration hall, "'Kind of student'--good +gracious!" she exclaimed again. "To talk to me as if I were Burnett +Minor! 'Kind of student!'--I wonder it doesn't occur to her that +somebody might have told me all about Miss Hastings and that gardener +four years ago!--'Kind of student,' indeed!" + +Still without changing her clothes, she walked out past the orchards, +up the hill, and sat looking down over the coombes to the sea. + +Leave Chesson's, now? Oh no, nothing was farther from her thoughts! +She would stay, and why? Not because she had been treated as a junior, +but because she had been taken, as it were, at her own word. She +herself might be perversely and nonchalantly cynical about her mixed +birth, but she did not intend to allow anybody else--Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith or anybody--to show as much as a flicker of +consciousness of it. "Kind of student"!--Oh no, that amusement was +going to be Louie's own private preserve. + +For it had been her cynical amusement. Approximately, the mood took +her once in five or six months, with or without occasion. Her mother +knew its times and seasons, and its passings into abeyance, not into +extinction. She did not call her sensitiveness morbid; quite on the +contrary, she saw to it that it took the form of a pose of gaiety; she +could be pitilessly gay with herself. Meek, harmless Cynthia +Scarisbrick, for example, could have told tales about her gaiety when, +not knowing whether she herself was eligible for presentation or not +(but gathering from the tense silence on the subject that had reigned +at Trant that she was not, or at any rate that her mother did not wish +it), she had practised the ceremonial curtsy with her cousin. It had +been Cynthia, not Louie, who had shed the tears. + +But to be agreed with by Mrs. Lovenant-Smith that her origin was open +to question (for the Lady-in-Charge had all but said that)--oh no, +that was really too much!---- + +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, who took a seedsman's salary! + +She might have known that Mrs. Lovenant-Smith would know all, all +about her---- + +Then, as she sat, she began to wonder where she had heard the name of +Lovenant-Smith before. She had wondered it when first she had received +her prospectus at Trant. Of course her stepfather knew these other +Lovenant-Smiths, the adjutant's lot, and had probably spoken of them, +but she did not think it was that. For a minute or two she sought in +her memory.... + +She was ceasing to think when the recollection came of itself. It was +only a trifling one after all. One of the boys with whom she had +romped at Mallard Bois--Roy she had called him then--had been, she now +remembered, a Lovenant-Smith. He would be a connection of the +adjutant's. Of course, she had heard the name at Mallard Bois.... + +Then Louie bit her lip. If there had been any doubt at all that Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith knew the story of Buck there was none now. The +association with Mallard Bois was quite enough.... + +Louie was glad she had looked insolently at those stumpy hands.... + +Beast! + +The trees below her tossed restlessly, and far out the grey sea was +whitecapped as if it had been rasped with a file. No boat had put out +for the pollock-fishing or to lift a spiller that morning; only a +pilot, a couple of miles out in the Channel, slowly lifted her nose +for a moment and then hid it again. Louie felt a little cold, and +rose. She made an attractive picture as she did so. Her brown hair was +tossed by the wind, and her long grey skirt cracked behind her and +clipped her limbs almost as if she had worn the garments of a man. + +"Beast!" she muttered again. + +Then she thought of another beast--this father of hers whose name she +had not needed to take but had taken out of rancour against her mother +and despite against herself. (But not for Mrs. Lovenant-Smith to turn +up her nose at!) He now (she had this from Chaff) kept a public-house +somewhere up the Thames--Lord Moone's cast-off brother-in-law in a +public-house!--and any fitful romantic light that might ever have +shone about him was now extinguished. Of course the Captain had +uttered his usual wistful formula: "Not a bad fellow at all, I should +have said"; but that was rather a criticism on the Captain than on +Buck. Yes. Buck was simply another beast. But though he were a +potman, Mrs. Lovenant-Smith should give him every bit as much +deference as if he had been a brewing peer.... + +"And I don't care--if it _is_ the pride of the cobbler's dog, I'm +going to keep his name," Louie muttered. + +Suddenly she turned and climbed the stile that led back to Chesson's +land. As she did so she realised that she had been out of bounds. She +laughed curtly. Rule 3! Much she cared for their Rules! What about the +Rule: "Miss Hastings does not elope with What's-his-Name the +gardener"?--but that would keep. In the meantime she would change into +her gardening clothes before lunch. She had shown Mrs. Lovenant-Smith +that she had garments of freedom. The next time Louie threatened to +leave she might be able to add to the force of the threat that she +would take half-a-dozen girls with her. + +Well, lunch was in half-an-hour; she had just time to change. + +But as she descended through the orchards again she came upon Richenda +Earle. The copper-haired girl was washing an espaliered plum-tree, and +as she turned her head Louie saw that she had been crying. She asked +Louie if she was going. + +"Leaving here, do you mean? No. What's the matter?" + +The girl turned her eyes away. + +"Thanks awfully for last night," she grunted. "It was ripping of you. +But you see it hasn't made much difference." + +"How, not made much difference?" + +Richenda glanced at the tree, and from the tree to the syringe in her +hand and the pail of disinfectant at her feet. "This," she said. +"Anybody can do this job, and I've been sorting out pots over there +all the morning," she indicated the yard behind the trees where the +flower-pots and debris were kept. "And _I_ can't threaten to leave." + +"Your scholarship, of course?" + +"Yes. And I'm supposed to be working for the medal." + +Chesson's wanted a Horticultural Society's medal badly. They had never +had one, nor were likely to get one unless Richenda Earle got it for +them. Louie, who was quickly fathoming the real economy of the place, +looked again at Richenda's red eyes. + +"Well, they won't send you away till you've failed," she said. + +But Earle made an impatient gesture, and her eyes began to stream +again. + +"Oh, what's a girl like you know about it!" she broke out. "Yes, I +know they'll keep me till then, but you don't know anything at all +about it! You would if you'd had my upbringing! You don't know what +the struggle is. You think digging and carrying pots is hard work; you +wouldn't if you'd seen what I've seen! When you go to London it's just +shopping and theatres and suppers and things; but just you try to keep +a small bookseller's accounts for him, when they're hardly worth +keeping, I mean, and collecting his debts when all his money's tied up +in stock and your father's nearly bankrupt--not that he's ever +solvent--you'd know what I meant then!" + +Then the unexpected outbreak stopped suddenly. + +Louie stood silently staring. She disliked seeing anybody cry. +Richenda's words had little meaning for her; she supposed they +contained a hidden meaning somewhere. Then the copper-haired girl +went on, more quietly but no less bitterly: + +"I should get a hundred pounds a year on the staff here," she said, +"that is, if they won't waste me half-days just out of spite, like +they're doing this morning. That's nothing to you. You others are here +just for pocket-money, but we live on your pocket-money. I suppose I +oughtn't to have come here at all. Not among all you. But I begged +father to let me. Father once apologised to me--that was when there +was a distraint out against him, if you know what that is--because he +wasn't rich. Fathers ought all to be rich, he said. There are seven of +us girls at home, and only one married. Oh, I tell you, you don't +know!" + +Louie wondered why she preferred Richenda Earle loud and striving for +the popularity she never got to Richenda Earle unburdening herself +thus. She herself went brightly masked, and disliked to see another's +mind naked. Richenda's mind was stripped now. It was distasteful. +Somehow or other Richenda contrived to miss both the balm of +popularity and the solace of private sympathy. + +"I'm--I'm awfully sorry," Louie said awkwardly and a little stiffly. + +At the tone Richenda drew in instantly. + +"It doesn't matter," she said, compressing her lips and beginning to +straighten her hair. "I shall just have to buck up, that's all. But +girls of your class don't know anything about it, so you needn't think +you do. There's the first gong. Come on." + +As they passed the dairies a rabble of students raced past the end of +the house on their way to the boot-lockers. Louie and Richenda entered +by the side door. Richenda plunged at once into the scramble for +house-slippers, but Louie, not having put on her garden boots that +day, did not need to change. It was too late now to put on another +dress. She waited by the inner door. + +Suddenly she was spied by Burnett Minor. The child rushed towards her, +a book in her hand. + +"Are you going, Causton?" she shouted. + +There was a loud "Ssssh!" They could be heard from the dining-room. +The girls flocked round Louie, and hoarse, excited whispers broke out: + +"Are you going?" + +"She's dressed!" + +"Are you going?" + +"Did you see her?" + +"Does Causton say she's going?" + +"Ssssh--not all at once!----" + +"No, I'm not going," said Louie. + +Mouths gaped their very widest to make up for the inaudibility of the +cheers. + +"Hooray!" + +"Is she going?" + +"No, she's not going--hooray!" + +Burnett Minor threw her book joyfully into the book-locker. Ordinarily +her reading varied between an adoration of Tennyson and mocking and +dramatic declamations either from the "Pansy Library," or from its +brother-classics, of which the typical burlesque is "The Blood-stained +Putty-knife, or The Plumber's Revenge." But this book was her album. + +"I saw you come down dressed, and I did want you to put something in +it if you were going," she whispered gleefully; "but you're not going! +Hoo----" + +Her voiceless mouth gaped wider than them all. + +That midday Louie walked demurely up to Mrs. Lovenant-Smith at the +head of the table and apologised for not yet having changed. From her +tone Mrs. Lovenant-Smith may or may not have inferred that she had +spent the hours since their interview in contrite meditation. She +inclined her head graciously. But Louie, taking her place for grace +between Burnett Minor and Richenda Earle, was murmuring to herself +once more: + +"'Class of student,' indeed!... Good gracious me!..." + + +IV + +Louie quickly became the most popular girl in the college. + + * * * * * + +Her studies she pursued very much as who should say: "I am Louie +Causton--take it or leave it." Neither Miss Harriet nor the gardeners +could ever tell when she was interested in a lesson; if she learned, +she concealed her processes. Before April was out--(the intervening +time may be slipped over; the daily work in the gardens and houses +went on as usual, the usual number of crates and parcels was +despatched from Rainham Magna station, and already the girls were +looking forward to June, which was always a slack month)--before April +was out she could "slip" and "bud" as deftly as any when she chose; +but few made more mistakes than she, and none accepted correction with +her remarkable nonchalance. Afternoon "theory" she had begun to cut +almost entirely. A slate hung in the hall, on which students were +supposed to write down where they might be found when they left the +immediate precincts of the college. One day towards the end of April +there appeared on this slate: "Gone to Rainham; L. Causton." Then she +awaited events with Mrs. Lovenant-Smith. + +There were no events. + +She sent to Trant for a bicycle. + +Truth to tell, as the spring advanced she needed the air. The +glass-houses, with their smell of musk and mould and heated pipes and +cherry-pie all mingled, oppressed her; the long forcing-house, where +for the time being most of the work for the markets went on, +completely took the starch out of her. She felt as if she was being +forced herself. She hated the sight of the twelve houses; they merely +meant so much ventilation, so much shutting-down for the evenings, so +much watering, so much lassitude for the girls, so much money in +Chesson's pocket. She was glad she had sent for the bicycle. Somebody +else might read thermometers and close down and sprinkle floors and +ply the hissing hoses. Louie wanted air. + +Yet even the outer air was not sharp enough. It is not an invigorating +air in which the lemon-verbena grows in trees up the cottage walls and +scented geranium flourishes out-of-doors like a common hedge plant. In +the sunken lanes through which she idled on her bicycle the primroses, +twice as big as she had ever seen them, and the cowslips, great +sub-tropical clusters, were already past; and she expected to see the +roses out presently, big as sunflowers. There was something almost +rank in the sweet bursting out of the land. She thanked goodness that +a daisy was a daisy still, modest and unmagnified. She was not used to +hedges of fuchsia. Nature might have been a little more sparing of her +myrtle too. Louie always dropped from her bicycle when, coming out of +one of the canals of still and scented air, she saw, across a burnt +heath-patch or a clump of hardy gorse, a glimpse of the sea. For the +sake of a look at the sea she often walked up the hill behind +Chesson's and sat on the stile she had crossed on the morning after +her interview with Mrs. Lovenant-Smith. + +Except by her example, however, she incited nobody else to break the +Rules. + +It was curious that she should know herself to be popular, and yet at +the same time should also be secretly aware that she was a little out +of things. All went well enough for the present, but only for the +present. She knew quite well what would happen did she, a year or two +hence, chance to meet any of her present fellow-pupils. She would not, +then, be older than they in quite the same sense that she was now. +They would meet; there would be eager recollections of the old days at +Chesson's; oh, for that matter she could make it all up now!... "Come +where we can have a really good talk! Where's Burnett Major now, and +her sister? And have you heard from Elwell lately? And I wonder what's +become of that red-haired girl--what was her name--Earle--yes, Earle? +And of course you know Macfarlane's going to be married.... Now tell +me all about what you're doing!"... Oh yes, Louie could make all this +up--the bursts, the pauses, the dead stops, and then the falsely +bright, perfunctory talk about Chesson's again. For she and her +fellow-students would not be doing the same things. They would have +taken recognised places, and Louie was not sure that she herself had a +place to take. Her father and mother had seen to that. She remained a +spectator. If she was liked now, it was not because she went one inch +out of her way to be so. She was just as ready to go out of her way to +be disliked if she must go out of it at all. + +In the meantime, however, here she was at Chesson's, to all intents +and purposes her own mistress, and made so much of that she had Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith largely at her mercy--for, had she been requested to +leave, the two Burnetts, Elwell and others would now have left with +her. So, doing exactly as she liked, and adored on every hand, Louie +even wondered sometimes whether she had not been wrong in supposing +that restlessness and discontent were bred in the very bones of her. + +She was at the very top of her popularity about the time Burnett Major +gave the birthday "cocoa" in her cubicle. (That is to say, Burnett +Major gave the nucleus of the "cocoa"; the rest of the party happened +by a natural process of accretion.) This time the junketing was held +by Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's permission; it had been acceded readily. +"Lovey's not such a bad old sort when you get used to her," B. Major +said. It was in mid-May, on a hot evening, and, though Burnett's +window was flung wide open, showing the dark yew outside, not a breath +stirred, and the flames of the candles were four inches long in the +air. Besides cocoa, Burnett had provided cake and biscuits and candied +fruits and an enormous box of "assorted" chocolates; and Burnett's bed +was like to break down with the weight of girls upon it. + +Louie had had Burnett Major especially in her mind when she had +painted her fancy picture of a possible meeting with her +fellow-students a year or two hence. The two sisters were the +daughters of a Gloucestershire M.F.H., and Louie could forgive B. +Major for being a little dazzled by her approaching presentation. +There was nothing unfamiliar to Louie, either, in the rest of the +things she felt herself, at one and the same time, both "in at" and +"out of," for probably Mewley Hall, the Burnetts' home, was not very +different from Trant or Mallard Bois. But Burnett Major's position a +few years hence was a forgone conclusion; she filled it already in +anticipation; and the noisy talk that was in progress as Louie joined +the party threw bright lights on it. + +They were discussing the coming vacations. These were Chesson's yearly +dread. They interrupted his supply of free labour, and there were +always fewest girls when he most wanted them. As the vacation +arrangements rested after all chiefly with the parents, he could do +little except express his preference that as many of the girls as +possible should take their holidays in the empty month of June, and +his hope that those who did not do so would defer them until as late +as they could. Otherwise he was, to that extent, no better off than +his trade competitors. + +"Here she comes," Burnett Minor was crying as Louie entered the +crowded cubicle. "I want to be here when Causton is. It's all +right for Major--oh, you needn't think we don't know, Major--if you +aren't actually engaged he's always about the place when you're at +home--and I'm going to stalk you both with a camera and then +what-d'you-call-it--blackmail him----" + +"Shut up, Minor, or I shall send you out," B. Major ordered. + +"Then I shall tell everybody who he is and shout his name through the +keyhole. It's----" She moved her lips, threatening to pronounce the +name there and then. + +"Sneak!" said her sister. + +B. Minor bridled. + +"I _will_ tell them if you call me that again! Causton, have you a +young man? (That means, Avez-voo un jeune homme, Pig?)" + +"Not for you to shout his name through keyholes," Louie replied, +smiling. + +"No, but do tell us--have you?" + +"At my age?" said Louie mockingly, sitting down on the edge of the bed +and reaching for candied fruits. + +"Go on--you're trying to wriggle out of it--_have_ you?" + +"Hush, little girl--open your mouth----" She popped a fruit into the +mouth that itself resembled an untouched fruit. + +Pigou, from the lower deck of the washstand, interposed loudly: + +"Elle a vingt-quatr'ans--elle est perdue!" + +"Uppe petite chose, avec voter Francay," commented Burnett Minor. + +"Cau-ston coiffe deja Sainte Catherine," said the ruthless Pigou: "a +vingt-quatr'ans on est deja--pff!" + +"Non elle isn't pff--rude chose! But she'll tell me when we sleep out, +because I'm going to have my mattress next to hers, sha'n't I, +Causton?" + +"Mais elle vient d'promettre----" + +"--and we shall talk about all those things you always say 'Hush' when +I come in--sha'n't we, Causton?" + +"Prrridd-ee!" taunted the French child: and B. Major spoke. + +"But I say, Causton, when do you take your vac.--June or September?" + +"And where shall you go?" somebody else demanded. + +"I'm going to Ireland--father's taken a house," cried a third. + +"Nobody cares where you're going! Causton, will you come home with +us?" + +"No; come to Ireland with us!" + +"Well, can I come home with you? I loved that man who brought you +here!" (Burnett Minor was the young woman who had loved Chaff.) + +"It wasn't Lord Moone, was it?" Macfarlane asked. + +"Or was it your father?" + +"Your cocoa, Causton," said B. Major. + +Louie had never been so run after before. She curled up among the +slippered feet at the foot of the bed (there were four girls stretched +upon it), and alternately stroked the hair and tweaked the ears of +Burnett Minor, who had defeated Pigou in the scramble to put her head +into Louie's lap. "I _can_ have the pitch next to yours, can't I?" the +child demanded, her eyes turned up and her face (to Louie) upside +down. "There, you see, Pig, she says I can--so voo juste pouvez +sechey-up, la." + +This sleeping out was a summer custom at Chesson's. It began with the +warm weather, sometimes in June, sometimes in July. On account of the +morning and evening carrying of bedding and mattresses, the "pitches" +nearest the house were deemed the most desirable, and weeks ahead +there was bickering about the "bagging" of them. They bickered now, +and then turned to the vacations again. + +Louie listened, saying little. For her, vacations in this sense hardly +existed. Vacations lose their value when you study as slackly as Louie +did. It might be amusing to go home with one or other of the girls for +a week or two, but on the other hand she hardly thought she would. +These were the things she was both "in at" and "out of." B. Major was +talking about them now. Soon she would be taking her presentation +lessons; she was coming out; she had an unofficial admirer; yes, Louie +saw quite plainly what B. Major's future would be. What was her own +going to be? She had not the least idea.... No, she did not really +want a vacation. More or fewer, there would be girls at Chesson's +throughout the summer. Chesson's still amused her; she could leave +once for all when it ceased to amuse her. She was learning nothing. +She neither wished to start a lavender farm, as Elwell, the daughter +of Sir James Elwell of the Treasury, did, nor to grow peaches, as did +Macfarlane, nor to add to her pocket-money by selling pot-pourri at +extravagant prices to her friends, which was Burnett Major's +idea--until she should marry. She could hardly sell pot-pourri to her +prize-fighting father. She might (she smiled) sell him hops--she +seemed to remember that beer was made of hops.... + +And she certainly did not intend to mug at theory for the sake of a +medal, as Earle was doing at this very moment.... + +The party was still discussing this life which was hers and yet not +hers when Miss Harriet, going her rounds, tapped at the door and +entered. + +"Bedtime, young ladies, please," she said. "Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's +compliments, and she hopes you have enjoyed yourselves." + +Her tone was that of one who might say: "You see, young ladies, what +liberty you have _within_ the Rules; isn't it much pleasanter all +round?" + +The party broke up. + +The weeks passed. In June a number of the girls went home, Earle among +them. Permission to sleep out was given, a little earlier than usual +on account of the heavy mildness of the nights; and Louie lay in the +orchard, between Burnett Minor and little Pigou. The convolvulus came +out, great white trumpets in the hedges; the sea over the hill became +of a milky blue; and there floated out to it dense tracts of odours, +lilies, and syringa, jasmine and roses and hay. You wearied of the +smell of meadow-sweet; in the houses you could hardly take breath. The +sun was reflected piercingly from their glass roofs, and the girls +spent the afternoons in deck-chairs under the shadow of the courtyard +yew. + + * * * * * + +The thing that (Louie sometimes told herself afterwards) made all the +difference and yet (as she also sometimes told herself) made no +difference at all, began very trivially. It was just such another +accident as that which, nine or ten years before, had sent her to her +mother with a demand to be told "who the Honourable Mrs. Causton was." + +Ordinarily, the girls at Chesson's were a little careless about the +dressing of their hair. You cannot move constantly among banks of +plants, and pick fruit, and net cherry-trees, and be for ever stooping +over beds and frames, and keep your hair fit to be seen. Therefore, +once a month or so, the girls might, if they wished, go in parties of +four or five to a hairdresser's at Rainham, there to be +professionally--whatever the word may be. These parties were made up +more with a view to the enjoyment of the half-holiday than to the +business strictly in hand; and Louie, had she cared, might have been a +member of each detachment that went. On this particular day Louie had +had much ado to free herself from Burnett Minor's affectionate clutch. + +"Oh, do come with our lot, Causton!" B. Minor had begged. "Oh, you +are rotten! You know you went with Elwell before, and with Major +before that, and I do want mine properly done like yours, not just +punched up the way we do it!" + +"What, like Saint Catherine?" Louie laughed. + +"Do come." + +But Louie had shaken her off. + +"He'll remember how mine's done; I was there a week ago. No, I won't +come. I'm going to do some theory this afternoon." + +"Oh, what a fib! You never do theory!" + +"Well, I ought to. No, I won't come." + +"Then will you lend me your bicycle?" + +"Yes, if you like; but the others are walking, aren't they?" + +"Well, I'll wobble with them." + +And Louie had watched the party set out, Burnett Minor on the bicycle, +"wobbling" and leaving behind her a complicated track in the dust of +the drive. + +She did not know why she had said she would do theory that afternoon. +She supposed it was because she felt slack and bored. Nor did she do +very much theory. She went into the classroom, languidly turned over +the pages of an old "Balfour," wondered what it mattered to anybody at +Chesson's (except perhaps to Earle) that "movements had been observed +in the pollen-grains of Cereus Speciosissimus," or that "changes took +place in the stamens by suppression and degenerations of various +kinds." Then she glanced at a preparation on the stage of the +microscope opposite Richenda Earle's empty chair, and yawned. She +looked out into the courtyard. Three or four girls dozed in +deck-chairs under the dark yew. There was an empty chair--but no; a +clatter of washing up was going on in the kitchen under the box-room; +she would go up to her cubicle. + +She did so, and, pushing off her slippers, lay down on her bed. + +Her window was open as far as it would go, but the yew seemed to shut +out even what little air there was. All that entered was the faint +acrid smell of consuming rubbish; they were slow-burning somewhere at +the back. The sounds of the washing up were fainter now; a pigeon +alighted on her sill. She had been an idiot, she told herself, to fag +herself that morning listening to Hall's demonstration in the +forcing-house. She wished there was a pond about the place, with a +boat or a punt. She would have bagged the boat to sleep in. It would +be jolly to be rocked to sleep in a boat or a punt. + +She closed her eyes. The last thing she saw before she did so was the +little black-framed miniature of the fourth Lord Moone, the last but +three, in his tied wig and ensign's uniform. Louie had tacked it up by +her mirror merely because it had been in her room at Trant as long as +she could remember and, if one might judge from the youthful face, he +was less of an opinionated fool than the other Moones--much less so +than Uncle Augustus.... + +She turned over. Then she slept. + +Sleep also was deep, too deep, at Rainham Parva. It weighed on the +girl like a mulch. At five o'clock Louie could hardly drag herself out +of it. She fumbled at her loosened belt and pulled out her watch. +Five! The tea-gong must have gone. + +Well, perhaps tea would rouse her. + +She felt by the side of the bed for her slippers, rose, touched her +hair as she passed the glass, and went drowsily downstairs. + +As Mrs. Lovenant-Smith and Miss Harriet always took tea in their own +or one another's rooms--which, for that matter, the students also were +permitted to do if they chose--the meal was a noisier one than either +lunch or supper. Louie heard one of Burnett Minor's several voices as +she pushed at the door. The child saw Louie's face in the opening and +sprang up. + +"Here she is--give it to me--I'm going to read it myself----" she +cried. + +Burnett Minor always wanted to read it herself--"it" usually being one +of the sublimer passages from the current number of the "Pansy +Library" or an especially choice one from an office-boys' periodical. +Louie smiled languidly now as the girl snatched a booklet from +Elwell's hand and gave tongue. + +"I've punctured your back tyre, Causton, but Mac has some solution and +we'll mend it after tea--and I'm always to do my hair like this, +Harris says--do look at it, isn't it stunning?--and now--aha!" +(somebody had made a grab for her book). "Thought you'd got it, didn't +you, Elwell? Now I'll read it first and then show her the picture, and +that reminds me, Mac, you've never given me my 'Jack Sheppard' back +that I lent you----" + +Louie reached for a chair. She yawned again. + +"Do give me a cup of tea, somebody. I hope the watering's all done, +for I'm not going to do any. What's the child got now? If it's 'Maria +Martin' or 'Irene Iddesleigh,' I think I know them by heart." + +The child herself answered her question. She jumped on a chair and +extended an arm for silence. + +"Ready?" she cried. "Now!" + + "'THE LIFE AND BATTLES OF BUCK CAUSTON,'" + +she declaimed in her most ringing voice, + + "'_Being the Full Story and Only Authorised Life of this Famous + Pugilist_'-- + +("Causton's uncle, don't forget, girls)-- + + "'_Revised by Himself and now Published for the First + Time--including his Historic Encounter with the Great Piker + Betteridge_'-- + +("Piker Betteridge--'Piker'--isn't it lovely?) + + "'_Entered at Stationers' Hall and All Rights Reserved_ + + "'PRICE ONE PENNY'" + +B. Minor drew out every syllable of the linked sweetness, and +concluded; + +"And lo and behold--on the cover--Buck himself--Uncle Buck, +Causton--you needn't say he isn't--as large as life and twice as +beautiful--there!" + +She held up the booklet in triumph. + +But she drew it back again, bubbling with enjoyment. "Wait till I find +_the_ gem--the one about Piker," she cried. + +Her fingers fluttered rapidly through the precious pennyworth in +search of the "gem." + +Louie's cup of tea had been at her lips, but not a drop spilt as she +put it down again. If her colour changed at all it was only as that +other pale fighter's had done whose story, Price One Penny, the +unconscious Burnett Minor was rapturously searching. + +"Here it is!" cried B. Minor, peremptorily extending her hand again. +"Listen, everybody!-- + + "'_But the redoubtable Buck refused to allow the wiper to be + skied. He recked nothing of his bunged optic and the claret that + flowed from his beezer. Game as a buck-ant he advanced for the + twenty-eighth round. The Piker, whose bellows were touched_----'" + +But Louie had risen and walked to the child. She held out her hand. + +"Let me look," she said. + +B. Minor gave her a suspicious look, as if she feared she might be +reft of her treasure. "You will give it me back?" + +"Oh yes." + +Louie took the book. + +She supposed she was awake now, but somehow a curious air of unreality +enveiled whatever it was that was happening. She looked at the cover +of the "Life" in her hand. The most execrable of woodcuts could hardly +disguise what she saw. Traditionally posed, nude above the waist, and +clad below only in tights and fighting-shoes--formidably watchful, +lightly poised for the blow--in appearance at any rate he was a man +and superb. But really he had been cruel, faithless, divorced. + +As if she had passed merely from one state of half-wakefulness to +another, she did not think of the bomb she was about to drop among the +girls. She only wanted to look, and to look, and to look again at this +man, who was her father. + +"Isn't it just Causton's mouth and chin?" she barely heard Burnett +Minor bubbling. "But I can't say she has Uncle Buck's beezer----" + +Slowly Louie handed the "Life and Battles" back. At any rate she had +now seen him, if only in a wretched woodcut. She looked quietly about +her. + +"That's my father," she said, perhaps a shade distinctly and loudly. + +Then she looked about her again. + +Burnett Minor jumped down from her chair. Her eyes shone flattery on +Louie. The very audacity of such a lie compelled her admiration. + +"O-o-oh--_what_ a whopper!" she cried. Louie turned her eyes to +Burnett Minor. + +"You said uncle. You weren't quite right. That's my father," she said +again. + +Burnett Minor's life was full of miracles. A miracle more or less made +no difference. Her eyes sparkled. She alone of the girls believed. + +"Not really?" she gasped. + +Louie nodded. + +"Qu'est c'qu'elle dit?" Pigou cried excitedly, somewhere at the back. + +"Pooh, she didn't--she only nodded--nodding isn't a lie," a casuist +scoffed. + +"Stupid, don't you see she's joking?" + +But Burnett Minor was watching Louie--only to be quite sure. + +"Honour?" she cried. "Spit your death?" + +"Honour." + +"How splen-_diferous_! And you never told us!" + +But Burnett Major had already looked at her sister. She was shocked +into using her Christian name. "_Genista!_" she reproved her. + +"Let me look again," said Louie. + +She looked again at the man who had been cruel, faithless, divorced. +Again she handed the "Life" back. + +"He keeps a public-house up the river," she said. + +At that the tension was suddenly relieved. That, of course, was too +much. They breathed freely again. The derisive clamour broke out. + +"Oh, don't you see? They've made it up between them--frauds!" + +"Of course they have! Come and finish tea." + +"She'll be saying that was the man who brought her down next!" + +"Causton, I'll never, never believe another word you say!" + +"Come on--the housekeeper will be here in a minute." + +"Pig, you've stolen my piece of cake that I was saving!" + +"Hurl the bread and butter, Mac." + +And the crowd which had gathered about Louie dispersed to the tables +again. + +Not until ten minutes later, when she had gone up to her own room +again, did Louie begin to wonder what had impelled her to make her +surprising declaration. But in an instant her ten-years'-old habit of +thought asserted itself again. Why have made it? Rather, why not have +made it? She would have made it sooner had occasion offered. Elwell +and the Burnetts did not drag their fathers in; she had not dragged +her father in either. She had not told them that her mother was Lord +Moone's sister--it was known, but she had not told them; why should +she have paraded the fact that her father was this redoubtable Buck, +from whose beezer the claret had flowed as he had advanced for the +twenty-eighth round? They could have known it any time they had +wanted! Conceal it? Why, had she not all her life been glorying in +that very pride of the cobbler's dog? + +And still, deep down in her, she wondered whether it had been even +that sort of pride, and not rather that secret hunger of the heart +that, while she was "in at" everything, she was also "out of" +everything. Had it been that that had caused her to say quietly: +"That's my father"? + +Or perhaps it was even something deeper still. Perhaps, in a word, it +had been her blind groping towards that crude and strong and cruel and +joyous life Richenda Earle had said she knew nothing about. + +She wondered whether the girls downstairs were talking about her now. + +Her eyes fell on the black-framed miniature of the fourth Lord Moone. +Then, as if her brain had received a number of disordered impressions +all heaped one on the top of the other, she sat down on the edge of +her bed, not so much to think as to remember again exactly what had +happened. + +Gradually the disorder cleared. Phrases and the tones in which they +had been uttered began to stand forth more distinctly. Presently she +was able to allocate each to its speaker. It was her first attempt to +estimate differences in the future her declaration might have made. + +Burnett Minor, of course, she could dismiss summarily. To her it had +been a high lark, that but endeared Louie to her the more. But Burnett +Major? What about her? "_Genista!_" she had exclaimed, shocked at her +young sister's apparent belief in the socially impossible. Yes, it +would be interesting to see what difference, if any, was to be seen in +Burnett Major's attitude now. And Elwell's "_Oh!_" What about that? +And Macfarlane's blank look? And what did Richenda Earle think? + +Louie did not know yet. + +And what about Mrs. Lovenant-Smith? Undoubtedly Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, +knowing about it herself, would have preferred Louie to keep silence. + +The thought of Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, however, always braced Louie. That +curious pleased coldness came into her eyes again. She would see about +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith by-and-by. In the meantime, the last thing she +intended to do was to absent herself from them all. She would go down +to supper. + +She took a clean blouse from a drawer, laid it out on her bed, and +then, reaching for a towel, started for the bathroom. + +Before she reached the bathroom, however, one of her conjectures was +already answered. Richenda Earle's cubicle was on the same corridor as +hers, four doors lower down, and she met Richenda herself, who had +come back from her vacation a week before, by the embrasure of one of +the latticed courtyard windows. It was almost dark; in the recess the +little reflectored oil lamp had been lighted, and it shone on the +Scholarship girl's copper hair and angular shoulders. Louie stopped. +She did so deliberately. Let Earle allude if she dared. + +"You washed?" she said, on a rising note. + +"No, not yet. I--I came up for a book," said Richenda. + +"You're not studying to-night, are you?" + +"Ye-es--oh yes, I must." + +"Classification?" + +"Ye-es--yes." + +"How far have you got now?" + +Louie's mood was on her. It was overdue, but it had come now, and she +was challenging Earle. Nevertheless, she was ignorant of what she +really challenged when she challenged Earle. Hard knowledge of the +true weight of Life will tell, and Earle's knowledge of that weight +told now. The girl's head was downhung, so that the nodule of bone at +the back of her neck caught the light sharply. Suddenly she looked up. + +"But you are Lord Moone's niece, aren't you?" she said, without +preface. + +Since her vacation, this daughter of a struggling Westbourne Grove +bookseller had seemed less assertive than before, and was, somehow, +none the worse for it. Louie didn't know what had made the difference, +but she momentarily dropped her point. + +"Yes," she said. "Why?" + +"Then----?" Richenda halted. + +"Then what? The other that I told them downstairs is just as true, if +that's what you want to know." + +"But--but----" + +"Well, what?" + +Earle evidently mitigated what she had been about to say. + +"I only mean that--that you must have thought it queer, my talking as +I did--that morning, you know?" + +Louie saw the approach of the first attitude for her garner. + +"What morning?" she demanded. + +"When they punished me--when I was washing the fruit trees." + +"I remember. Well, why should I think anything queer?" + +Earle's head dropped again. Again the sharp nodule of bone showed. + +"Do you mean," Louie said, "that if my father's what I said, no doubt +I know as much about what you were saying as you do?" + +"Oh no!" Earle said, the more quickly that that probably had been what +she had meant. + +"Then what do you mean?" + +"Only that it's--so odd----" + +But suddenly Louie gave her towel a twitch and turned away. She spoke +with her chin over her shoulder. + +"I don't love my mother," she said, "but for all that she is Lord +Moone's sister--Augustus Evelyn Francis Scarisbrick, Lord Moone. And +the other's my father. I wouldn't study too hard about it if I were +you. You have your medal to get." + +She walked abruptly to the bathroom. + +That night, as usual, she sat at supper between Burnett Minor and +Richenda Earle. The ordinarily irrepressible child on her left was +silent; but others, two or three places removed from Louie, leaned +back or forward from time to time to speak to her. She fancied Burnett +Minor had been crying; she was sure of this when, giving the child's +hand a pat under the table, she felt her own hand impulsively caught +and squeezed. Then, in proportion as Burnett Minor cheered up (which +she usually did very quickly), the others ceased to talk across to +Louie. It was as if, whoever did it, some normal level of chatter must +be maintained. Soon supper was as desultorily talkative as it always +was. Louie, glancing at the top table, saw that Mrs. Lovenant-Smith +knew nothing of what had happened at tea-time. She was, however, quite +ready for her the moment she should find out something. + + +V + +One afternoon about three weeks later Louie Causton had occasion to go +into the carpenter's shed. This shed lay between the dairies and the +boiler-house that was the centre of the hot-water-pipe system, and +Priddy had a frame making there. Half this frame, protected by a board +with "Wet Paint" chalked upon it, leaned against the outside wall, +and, with his back to the sunlit doorway, a young man, whom at first +Louie took to be Priddy, was doing something at a bench. Hearing her, +he turned. It was not Priddy. Louie did not know him. + +There is in the British Museum a small helmeted head very like the +young man Louie saw. It is on the upper floor, among the Tanagras, in +a case on the left as you walk from the stairs. This young man, of +course, was not helmeted. His face was handsome and slightly vacuous; +his eyes in particular had something of the blankness of the little +terra-cotta head; and his mouth was full and classically curved, and +had the slightest of smudges of dark moustache along the deeply +indented upper lip. A pair of rolling muscular shoulders showed +through his white sweater; his old trousers were tucked into a pair of +wooden-looking boots; and he was filing something. Louie wondered what +business he had there. + +He told her. He spoke in a slow voice, as if he had got his +explanation by rote. He was there by Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's permission, +he said. + +"We had a smash with the centre-board, you see," he explained. +"Crash--just at tea-time. Izzard wanted to send it to Mazzicombe, but +I told him they'd charge nearly as much as we gave for the beastly +boat. So I'm doing it myself." + +Then, as if his presence within the precincts of a horticultural +college for young women was quite explained, he bent over his filing +again. Louie, who had come for a couple of boards that had been put +aside for her, took them and went out. She was twenty yards away when +she heard the young man call slowly after her: "I say--I ought to +carry those for you, you know----" + +The boards were for her bed. This she had removed from the orchard. +The new place lay quite beyond the orchard, at the foot of the hill +between Chesson's and the sea. There, for the first time on the +previous night, she had had the best of what breeze there was. + +It had been the attitude of her fellow-students during the past +month--or, more fairly, what she had conceived to be their +attitude--that had caused her thus to remove herself. + +It might be too much to say that she was still not as popular as ever. +These things are not demonstrable. Popular she had been; now--well, it +depended a little more than it had done. Burnett Minor, of course, +would have eaten from the same plate with her by day and shared her +bed at night had she been permitted--also had she not left for her +vacation a fortnight before; but Burnett Major--Louie was not so sure +about Burnett Major. Her attitude had been more than correct; it had +been so correct that Louie had been put altogether in the wrong. The +words, of course, had never been said, but Louie had imagined Burnett +Major's private opinion to be as follows:-- + +"But why didn't she tell us sooner? What earthly difference does she +suppose it would have made? Who cares about things like that? I dare +say her father's just as good as anybody else's father; for that +matter, mother's grandfather was only a farmer--mother told us so +herself; but nobody likes being treated as if they were snobs. It +showed a lack of confidence, that's what it showed; and I don't +know--now--I mean no girl, unless she _wasn't_ quite a lady, +would----" Louie could supply that part too. + +"I don't care--I _love_ Causton!" she had also imagined B. Minor as +having sobbed, bold and unconvinced. "He didn't sky the wiper when his +beezer was bleeding, anyway!" + +Yes: for Burnett Major, presentation and all the rest of it lay ahead. + +Matters would probably have stopped at that had Louie herself allowed +them to do so; but that would not have been like Louie. Allow them to +stop there? Good gracious, no! Her cynicism had become bright indeed. +_She_ was not the girl to contaminate the innocent Burnett Minor; +neither--for she was a Scarisbrick when all was said and done--was she +going to be driven willy-nilly into the society of Richenda Earle as +company good enough for her. She could look after herself, thank you. +Coventry is no unpleasant place provided you have the putting of +yourself there, and at any rate her Coventry at the foot of the hill +was cooler at night than the other one. It meant carrying her mattress +and bedding a little farther, but she had a prizefighter's physique to +carry them with, which was more than her nearest neighbour, Elwell, +the daughter of the Treasury mandarin, could say. + +It is true that she did sometimes wonder (with Burnett Major, perhaps) +whether she had not inherited also from the prizefighter something +less desirable than his physique--a discontented and ill-conditioned +nature. But that did not mend matters. It merely made her, if it did +anything at all, distrustful of herself. And as this is the story of +Louie, virtues and vices and all, her moods must go down with the +rest. + +At any rate, rolled in her blanket at the foot of the hill, she could +feel the night wind on her face, and see the stars, and in her fancy +deride or boast of her parentage to her heart's content. + +On the afternoon following that on which she had fetched the boards +from the carpenter's shed she went to the shed again, this time for a +couple of tent-pegs and a piece of cord for the better securing of her +blankets. The vacant young Tanagra was still there. But this time he +was not quite so vacant. He had had leisure to think of quite a number +of words. + +"I say," he said, lifting slow and bashful eyes of the colour of blue +porcelain to Louie, "I've been thinking. Haven't I seen you before?" + +"Yes. Yesterday," said Louie shortly. He had had the bad luck to catch +her at her brooding. But he did not seem to notice her curtness. + +"No, but I mean--before----" + +"When?" + +"Isn't--isn't your name Chaffinger?" He almost blushed. + +"No." + +"Oh!" + +Then she relented a little. + +"I was called Chaffinger for a time. My name's Causton. I suppose +yours is Chesson, or you'd hardly be here?" + +"Chesson? Why Chesson? No. Mine's Lovenant-Smith--Roy Lovenant-Smith." + +"Oh!" said Louie. "Then you're right. We have met before, at Mallard +Bois." + +Roy Lovenant-Smith appeared to be so relieved at being rid of a +perplexity that he didn't much care if they never met again. + +"I thought we had," he said mildly. "You were Louie Chaffinger then. I +knew you were." + +"But what," Louie asked, "are you doing here?" + +He radiated simplicity. + +"That centre-board, didn't I tell you? Izzard would make me go halves +in the rotten old thing; just look at her; hardly a shroud on the port +side, and the centre-board was hitched up with a piece of old rope +instead of a chain and down it came the other tea-time. It's the cabin +table as well as the centre-board, you see, and the whole thing shut +up-just like that----" + +He set the inner edges of his hands together and then closed his palms +with a slap. + +"All the tea--jam and all the lot," he said. + +He amused Louie. "That was a pity," she said demurely. + +"Wasn't it? But I say, I shall be catching it. I might use the shed, +aunt said, but she told me it was a fixed Rule about men, unless +you're a gardener, of course----" + +("An obedient nephew," Louie thought.) "Then I must go at once," she +added. + +"Well, I shouldn't like to get you into a row too," said Roy +Lovenant-Smith ingenuously. + +"No," Louie agreed, more demurely still. "They have to be strict, you +know." + +"Rather!" said Roy Lovenant-Smith heartily. + +And Louie left him. + +She was hardly out of sight before her laughter broke forth. "'All the +tea--jam and all the lot!'" she repeated softly, and laughed again. +She scarcely remembered this delightful young man. When, as a child of +eleven, she had played leapfrog, he could hardly have been more than +seven, and she felt herself to be far more than four years his senior +now. He was the adjutant's son, she supposed. Well, he would hardly +need Chaff's usual extenuation about his being a bad fellow at all: +Louie would be very much surprised if he had wit enough to be very +bad, or, for the matter of that, very anything else either. Once more +she laughed. At any rate she had to thank him for dispelling her +megrims for the time being. Still laughing softly, she passed through +the orchards, ascended the hill, and sought her favourite place by the +stile at the top. + +She had not thought very much about young men. She had observed them +as so many phenomena, obviously superior to the animals, yet not quite +identifiable as beings with inner experiences akin to her own. They +looked at her irregular mouth and elongated chin, said the things +young men did say, and departed again, taking their various moustaches +and their unvarying smell of tobacco to some girl of the kind she knew +they accounted "pretty." They were quite different beings from the +fairy prince of her childhood; and since her childhood's days she had +grown gradually, she did not know how, to a fairly accurate estimate +in retrospect of the "little party" to which Chaff had once taken her, +pigtails and all. Her views of marriage too were coloured by that +mixed parentage that made her, she supposed, not "common" and not "a +lady." She would not marry unless this was clearly understood. What +else there might be in marriage was shadowy, to be considered after +this redoubtable magnanimity was safely out of the way. + +With no young man had she ever had "a lark." + +She was, however, more in the mood for a lark now--not necessarily +with a young man--than she had ever been in her life before. "Cau-ston +a vingt-quatr'ans--elle coiffe deja Sainte Catherine," the remorseless +Pigou had said: oh, had she? Did she? Moreover, you cannot put +yourself gloomily into Coventry; others must be made to see that you +consider your sequestration the most desirable of conditions. Indeed, +she had said as much to Richenda Earle only the night before. + +Richenda was the only one of the girls who slept indoors, and Louie, +carrying her bed-trappings out from the house, had come upon Richenda +by the little green door of the espaliered wall that led to the +orchards. Richenda had made an advance, willing, apparently, to forget +the snub Louie had administered after the "Life and Battles" +revelation, and had offered to carry her pillow for her. + +"Why do you go so far?" she had asked, as they had left the orchard +behind. + +"Oh, I hate being disturbed," Louie had replied. "I'd go right down to +the shore if it wasn't for the climb up again." + +"But suppose you wanted anything during the night?" + +"What should I want?" + +"Of course, I forgot. You don't have headaches. I have--frightful +ones." + +"Then why don't you come out too? There's quite a jolly place here. +I'd help you to carry your things." + +"Oh, I've got to read," Richenda had shaken her head. + +"You'd be heaps better for it----" + +Louie had not much in common with Richenda--save perhaps (she loved +little cuts like this at herself) that both of their fathers were +literary. But she had had that rather brutal snub on her conscience. +That had come out next. + +"You do study too hard," she had said, "and--I say, Earle--I'm sorry +for what I said that night--you know--when I snapped at you and said +you'd your medal to get. Will you forget that?" + +The next moment she had almost wished she hadn't said it, Earle's +hungry gratitude had shown so. + +"It wasn't your fault a bit," the red-haired girl had broken out +impulsively. "It was all mine. I ought to have minded my own business. +But I was so--so----" + +"Well, try sleeping up here," Louie had cut her short. "It's jolly." + +But Richenda had gone on. "I was stupid," she had murmured. + +"I don't know that you were. You see how it is." + +"Oh, I was, I was----" + +"Well, as I tell you, I don't think much of my mother's lot." + +"Ah, _you_ can say so," Richenda had replied, shaking her head. Then, +as Louie had thrown down her mattress, "You don't mean to say you +undress here?" she had asked. + +"Well, I don't sleep in my clothes." + +"But don't your things get wet?" + +"I wrap 'em in my waterproof.... You won't come up, then, and run down +to the shore for a bathe before breakfast?" + +"Causton, they'll be dropping on you yet!" Earle had said, almost +frightened. + +"Well, without the bathe?" + +"Oh, I should die!" + +And Richenda had gone back to sleep where she might find remedies for +her headaches within reach of her hand during the night. + +Louie sat on the stile. The sea had a soft bloom, and the sky was of +the colour of the whites of a baby's eyes. Bees hummed among the +scabious, and blue and sulphur butterflies hovered over the patches of +wild thyme. A tramp, sullying the air behind her, crept slowly up to +Bristol; a single nodding grass-head near at hand shut her out almost +completely. Mazzicombe, down under the hill, was hidden. Louie watched +it all, thinking of nothing, or, if of anything, of how sweet it was +to relax all her muscles to the point of not stumbling off the stile, +and all her mind save that she might still be just conscious that she +existed and was Louie Causton.... + +"Hallo," said a slow, imperturbable voice behind her; "here we are +again." + +She started a little. Roy Lovenant-Smith was returning with a baulk of +old wood over his shoulder. + +"Oh, it's you," she said. She did not know whether she was glad or +annoyed to be interrupted. + +"Yes, it's me," he replied placidly. + +She was silent for a moment; then: "I thought you hadn't to hang about +here?" she said. + +"Well," he put it to her candidly, "how can I get over the stile when +you're sitting on it? How can I, now?" + +She laughed. "Well, I must get off on my proper side." She did so. +"There," she said. + +He climbed over with great deliberateness, walked a few yards with his +piece of timber, and then turned again. + +"No, you can't see her from here," he said. "She's down under the hill +there. I don't think she's worth bothering about, but Izzard says +she'll be quite all right with a new stay or two. I suppose I shall +have to get 'em." + +Louie felt a return of her amusement. + +"Who's Izzard?" she asked. + +"Izzard?" He looked at her as if she ought to know that. "Izzard's the +other chap. Always painting, you know. Painting and mooning about and +leaving me to do all the work. He's away there somewhere now." He +pointed vaguely across the Channel. "I suppose he'll come back when +he's ready. She _is_ an old egg-box!--I say, how's your cousin Eric? +And that girl--what's her name--Cynthia, wasn't it?" + +She didn't know, and told him so; she did not tell him that she didn't +care either. He cogitated for a moment, and then said: + +"But I say--what do you _do_ at this place? Seems funny to me.... Mind +yourself--somebody wants to get over----" + +She had not heard anybody approach. It was Priddy, going down to +Mazzicombe. Louie stood aside from the stile. Priddy climbed over it +and began to descend the hill. Lovenant-Smith looked at Louie in +surprise. + +"I say," he said, "that's cool! Don't those fellows take their hats +off to you?" + +"No," said Louie. Then she turned her clear grey eyes on him. She had +been fairly caught. + +"Don't they? By Jove!... What are you looking at me like that for?" + +The rippling laugh with which Louie replied dropped a note. "Guess!" +she said. + +"How can I guess?" he asked, with his innocent and statue-like stare. + +For answer, Louie glanced to where Priddy's brown bowler hat was +disappearing over the edge of the hill. Roy Lovenant-Smith saw--he +really saw---- + +"What?" he exclaimed. "You don't mean to say that that chap will----?" + +She nodded. He stared. + +"What, get you into a row for talking to me?" + +"He may not." + +"No, but really, joking apart?" he said incredulously. + +"Perhaps he won't." + +"Oh, come, I say!... Look here, shall I go back with you and explain?" + +The innocent! "I don't think I would," said Louie, smothering her +laughter. + +"But--hang it all! I say, I _am_ sorry!" + +"Oh?" + +"I mean sorry I've got you into a row, of course," he amended. + +"Oh, I thought you meant sorry you stopped and talked to me." + +"Of course not. That is, if it doesn't get you into a row." + +"And if it did----?" + +"Well, a chap doesn't like getting people into rows. Look here--that +beggar wants talking to!" + +Louie dropped her eyes. "I've been in rows before," she said. + +Instantly he cheered up. "Oh, I see! You mean it wouldn't be much?" + +"Well, your aunt can't exactly skin me." At the recollection of Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith she glanced with satisfaction at her hands. + +"Oh, I'll make that all right with her," said Roy Lovenant-Smith +hopefully. + +She looked at him. He _was_ an innocent! "You know what that would +mean?" she said. + +"What?" + +"Well, merely that you wouldn't see me again." + +His look too rested on her hands. "Why?" he asked. + +She straightened herself. "Oh, never mind about it. I'm going now." + +He coloured a little. "But I say--Louie--you don't mind my calling you +Louie, do you? I used to, you know.--I should like to see you again." + +"Perhaps you'd better not," she said, with great demureness. + +"Oh, rot!" he expostulated. "A fellow can't get a girl into a mess and +then leave her in the lurch!" + +"You'd like to see me just once again, to see whether I'd got into a +row or not?" + +"That's what I mean." + +It wasn't what Louie had meant him to mean, but "Well, once, if you +like," she conceded. + +"All right. What about here, at this time to-morrow?" + +"I'll see if I can get away from my studies." + +"Right. And if I see that chap in Mazzicombe, may I say anything to +him?" + +"Please don't." + +"Not about not taking his hat off?" + +"Oh, they don't trouble about that sort of thing here." + +"Well, they jolly well ought. All right, I won't. Good-bye----" + +"Good-bye." + +He took his board and followed Priddy; she turned back to the college. +She laughed again. At any rate, a lark with a pleasant image was +better than a hole-in-corner, Miss Hastings affair with a gardener. +She would _not_ "coiffe Sainte Catherine." + +She duly got her wigging. She was put "on her honour" by Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith not to see the young man again who had betrayed the +confidence put in him. This struck her as quite richly arrogant. To be +put "on your honour" by somebody before whom you stand mute as a fish, +and to have it assumed that you accept the bond, was the _largior +ether_ indeed. Louie did not even feel called upon to say that she +declined to consider herself bound. Mrs. Lovenant-Smith might take her +"off her honour" again. She met Roy scarcely three hours later. The +interview he himself had had with his aunt in the meantime affected +the situation but little; his centre-board was now patched up, and the +withdrawing of the privilege of the carpenter's shed made no +difference. + +They met again on the afternoon following that, and again on the one +after that. Louie found herself hoping that Izzard, whoever he was, +would not return from "over there" just yet. Let somebody else attend +to the hair-combing of the Saint. + + * * * * * + +A score of different things contributed to her enjoyment of that +affair of atmosphere--her "lark." First, the initiative was hers--for +her empty-eyed statue accepted everything with as much candour as if +he had been born into a virgin world on the eighth day of its +creation. Next, the mere disregarding of Mrs. Lovenant-Smith was a +pleasure she felt it incumbent upon herself not to forgo. Next, there +was the instinctive courage with which she translated her sulks into +carelessness and gaiety. Next--but allow what you will for the rest: +pique, vanity, her derivation, her upbringing. When, the third time +she met Roy by the stile, the half-French girl, Pigou, came upon them, +and instantly flew to spread the news among such girls as still +remained at Chesson's, Louie's Coventry was the coveted thing she had +all along intended it should be. + +For she was more than merely popular now; she was romantic, apart, a +being to be looked up to with something like awe. Meet a young man! +She felt herself to be the channel by which every girl in the place +might have access to her own dreams. They gave her longing glances, +that mutely implored her to tell them all, all about it; she talked +about everything else, but not about that, and hearts and mouths +watered. They offered to do things for her--to carry her mattress, to +do her Sunday watering, even to clean her bicycle; and Louie let +them--but told them nothing. Nay, she even drew Richenda Earle to +herself. Richenda actually carried her mattress to the foot of the +hill one night and slept out. The two mattresses were placed not six +feet apart, and, as the birds settled on the boughs and the stars +came out, Richenda set herself wistfully to pump Louie. + +Then it appeared why Richenda had seemed changed since her vacation. +Speaking in a low voice, she too admitted that there was +now--Somebody. Weston, his name was, Louie learned, and he was some +sort of a commercial schoolmaster at the same place in Holborn where +Richenda herself had studied. So instead of Richenda pumping Louie, +Louie pumped Richenda. What was her Mr. Weston like? Well (Richenda +said), some might think him an oddity--the Secretary Bird, his +nickname was--but he was, oh, a soul so sensitive, so gentle! Was +there any prospect of their marrying soon? Richenda sighed; it would +be a long time; if she got her post at Chesson's he might apply for a +country schoolmastership somewhere near, and then she would get a +bicycle; or if he got a "rise" in London she might relinquish her +appointment--when she got it. But in any case it could hardly be for +years. Louie asked flatly what Weston got, and was told one hundred +pounds a year. She looked up in surprise. Her own dress allowance was +treble that amount. + +"And you'd get a hundred here too?" she asked. + +"If I get the place--which means if I get my medal," said Richenda. + +Then, Louie thought, that would be two hundred between +them--two-thirds of her dress allowance. + +"But--but----," she said, "I thought people got paid more than that!" + +"I told you you didn't know," said Richenda softly. + +"But--but--why, my aunt paid Miss Skrine one hundred and fifty pounds, +just to go through her engagements, opening bazaars and charities and +so on--just to write down on a slate what she had to do each day!" + +"Your aunt's Lady Moone," came from Richenda's couch. + +"I _know_ she got one hundred and fifty pounds, _and_ lived with them. +One hundred pounds seems absurd." + +"That's what father said when he apologised to me." + +"But surely, all--all the people one sees aren't paid at that rate! +Why, some cooks get a thousand--I've heard that for a fact----" + +"Some don't," came from the other pillow. + +"Well, some do, and if you strike an average, or whatever it's +called----" + +But Richenda interrupted, softly and wearily: + +"Oh, you don't, don't, don't know." + +Louie asked further questions. She frowned, puzzled, at the answers. +Of course Richenda herself wasn't a very effective sort of girl; if +anybody had to be downtrodden it would very likely be she; but the +things she was telling her now (Richenda had begun to talk again, +resignedly rather than bitterly) were preposterous. There must be +something wrong with Richenda, probably with her Weston too; she did +not look quite right; she was very different from the rosy housemaids +at Trant, for example. One hundred pounds a year!... She had forgotten +all about Roy. When, presently, Richenda came as near to putting a +question about him as she dared, she forgot about him again. One +hundred pounds a year!... She lay on her back, her knees up, her hands +behind her head, her sleeves fallen from her wonderful arms, the brows +above the grey eyes knitted. She was sure that _she_ could do better +than that! She even went so far as to say so. Richenda showed no +resentment. + +"You've got Lord Moone behind you," she said. + +"I've got a prizefighter and a public-house behind me," Louie replied. + +"Yes--I know you think you know----" + +Louie lay awake, still pondering it all, long after Richenda had +fallen into an uneasy sleep. + +On the following afternoon she met Roy by the stile again. She was +restless, unsettled, she knew not what. She spoke almost sharply to +him. + +"I'm not going to stand here with you," she said; "that's twice I've +been seen. Come down the hill." + +Roy no longer urged the Rules. They walked together a hundred yards +down the hill, and sat down under a gorse-bush. He made her move quite +behind it, and even then tucked her skirt a little farther out of the +gaze of a possible passer-by. + +"Now we're all right," he said. "How's Lovey this morning?" + +"I don't know. I haven't seen her." + +"Well, don't bite a fellow's head off, Louie." + +"Then don't bother me to-day.--No, I don't want my hand held." + +"What's the matter with you?" + +"If you don't leave me alone I shall go. I didn't sleep till nearly +daylight." + +"I didn't sleep for quite an hour, either," he said sympathetically. +"I say, isn't it funny, Louie, when you come to think of it, that till +a week ago I hadn't thought of you for years?" + +"Oh, I wasn't lying awake thinking of you," she said bluntly. + +"I was of you." He put out his hand again. + +His approach only made her impatient. "Oh, don't!" she snapped. +"Really I shall get up and go if you worry me." + +He was, as he would have put it, "keen": keen enough to begin to sulk. +She let him sulk, and watched the sea, always of a milky bloom, and +the sky, still of the hue of an infant's eyeball. After some minutes +she turned to him again. + +"What _do_ people get paid?" she asked abruptly. + +"What people?" He spoke over his shoulder. + +"Oh, people--you know what I mean!" + +"We get dashed little, I know that." (He was going into the army.) +"What sort of people? Servants and those?" + +"And those--yes." + +Roy expounded. + +"Jolly good pay, _I_ call it; lot of lazy beggars! Why, the fellow +down there wanted to charge me two pounds for patching up that +centre-board, that I did in about a day. I shouldn't mind getting two +pounds a day!... Why?" + +"I want to know." + +"Some of your gardeners been grizzling to you?" + +"No." + +"A wonder--rotten grousing lot! They ought to have uniforms to buy, +and mess-bills and clubs and things; they'd know all about it then! +Two pounds for filing a piece of iron and putting a patch on a piece +of wood!--I think it will hold all right," he continued naively; "we +shall make a deuce of a lot of leeway if it doesn't. We're +flat-bottomed, you see, with only bilge-keels, and that reminds me; +Izzard's coming back on Wednesday; I'd a note from him this morning. +But he won't be in the way, dear, if you'll only be friends----" + +She could not help laughing. After all, Richenda's "grousing" was a +little spoiling her fun. She turned to him again. + +"I haven't seen her yet," she said. "Let's go down to her now." + +He chuckled mildly. "You do play the dickens with the Rules, Louie." + +"Bother the Rules!" + +"Well, you don't want to go just this minute; it's jolly here----" + +This time she did not withdraw her hand. + +But he was very slow, she thought, in kissing her. He had never kissed +her yet. What was the good of being caught at--nothing? + +Well, statues (she reflected), especially young ones, are slow---- + +Even as she was thinking it he did that very thing. Perhaps it was to +summon up resolution to do so that he had lain awake the previous +night. He kissed her cheek. + +The result was curious. It was the law of her physique that most +moments of perturbation only turned her paler; but at this particular +form of perturbation she turned suddenly pink. + +In a few moments she was as before. The first sign that she was Louie +again was that she forbade him to repeat the offence. He sulked again. + +"All right," he said resentfully; "then we may as well go and see the +yacht." + +"I don't want to see the yacht." + +"Well, you needn't be stuffy about it----" + +Statues _were_ distractingly slow! + +Then she looked at him with a faintly mocking smile. + +"Aren't you going to say you're sorry?" she challenged him (but she +had for a moment a faint return of the unhabitual colour for all +that). + +He seemed to suspect that he was being mocked; nevertheless it was +with a rather tremulous boldness that he answered "No." + +"Oh!" + +"You see," he explained, "you did let me hold your hand." + +She caught her breath. Good gracious! Why, he would be saying +presently that she had asked him to kiss her! "You see, you did let me +hold your hand!" What next? + +"You know you did," he argued simply. + +Even so it is written, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings----" + +Suddenly she laughed. O admirable innocence, that alone can defeat +guile! After all, it was too unpardonable not to be pardoned. She +turned her face away again. + +"You _are_ stupid!" she murmured, her face, even her neck, pink once +more. + +At that quite a new gleam seemed to irradiate his good-looking clay. + +"I say," he said slowly, as he struggled with the newness of the idea, +"you mean--do you mean?--about my not kissing you--properly?" + +Oh, the heaviness! But he should kiss her "properly," as he called it, +now! + +"Oh," she said briskly, "it's too late now. You can't very well after +that, can you?" + +But he beamed. "Of course I can!" + +"No, Roy!" + +"I will----" + +This was outrageous. She made as if to rise. + +"No, Roy--no--you know very well you don't think I'm pretty----" + +"Well, you aren't ugly," said he. + +(Great heavens! She "wasn't ugly"!) + +"Very well, Mr. Statue," she thought, compressing those irregular lips +whose degree of prettiness he estimated so nicely. "I'm going to be +pretty in a very few minutes, and you're going to tell me so." + +"No, Roy," she said aloud; "just let's sit and talk--sensibly--I don't +know what made you behave like this all of a sudden----" + +And there was none to say "Provoking hussy!" + + * * * * * + +An hour later they rose. It was too late to go to the yacht now. They +walked together back to the stile. Their shoulders overlapped. The +kisses came easily now. + +"Then we'll go aboard her to-morrow?" he said. + +"Very well." + +"'Once aboard the lugger'--ha, ha--but of course she's a cutter, not a +lugger. That's just a saying, 'Once aboard the lugger.'" + +"Really?" + +"Yes, hadn't you heard it? 'Once aboard the lugger and the girl is +mine,' it is. And I say, you'd better put some old clothes on if I'm +to show you how the centre-board works." + +"All right." + +"What about Lovey?" he asked once more. + +"Oh, we write down on a slate where we're going." + +He held her a little away. "I--_say_!... You wouldn't tell her where, +would you?" + +"Why not?" + +"What--cheek!" + +"She put me 'on my honour'--impudence!" quoth Louie. + +"But I say--what frightful cheek!" + +"Good-bye----" + +"Just a minute----" + +"Well----" + +Then, "'Bye----" + +"Good-bye----" + +He called her name after her. "Louie!" + +"What?" + +"Good-bye----" + +"Good-bye, boy----" She waved her hand. + +Anyway, she thought with satisfaction, she had made him +say--swear--that she was pretty. + + * * * * * + +The next afternoon, as good as her word, Louie wrote on the +hall-slate: "Gone to Mazzicombe: L. Causton." Then she walked, +whistling, out of the house and up the hill. + + +VI + +This time she fully expected to catch it, and did catch it. No time +was lost. A note from Mrs. Lovenant-Smith just before supper ordered +her to report herself immediately after that meal. At a quarter past +nine she presented herself. + +The French window stood wide open, but night was fast falling over +the front lawn, and a clipped peacock of box showed against a +brownish-green sky. Mrs. Lovenant-Smith stood by the window. It moved +as she turned, and there swung slowly across the pane the reflection +of the tall, yellow-shaded standard-lamp in one corner. Miss Harriet +Chesson had followed Louie in. In her hand was a piece of +paper--Louie's "conduct-report." + +The beginning of the encounter was no skirmish; its end was positive +slaughter. This is no place for a report of it, round by round; it +must be summarised, even as the "Life and Battles" summarises the +combat between Buck and the terrible Piker. Louie "led," so to speak, +by asking whether she might sit down, giving as her reason that she +had had a long walk that afternoon; permission was only refused her +after she had put her hand on the back of a wheatear chair and said +again: "I think you said Yes?" She then placed the chair for Miss +Harriet to sit on, as near as possible to that of Mrs. Lovenant-Smith. +She herself stood in the middle of the room. + +Miss Harriet, evidently wishing she was somewhere else, read aloud the +conduct-report. It was longish and detailed. It also, as Louie well +knew, did not contain one of the real points at issue. She looked from +one to the other of the two women. The Lady-in-Charge wore a +discreetly-necked evening frock, with a fichu secured by a mourning +brooch; and her fingers kept touching this brooch, and also kept +leaving it again, as if Louie's eyes had been capable of a physical +plucking of them away. She had had Miss Harriet in, Louie knew, for +moral support. The principal's dress, too, was a give-and-take between +her gardening costume and conventional evening attire. Her indictment +read, she seemed more than ever anxious to depart. Louie, for her +part, was rather glad that she had been called in. Buck had always +fought better for the eyes upon him. + +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith began correctly; her first trace of acerbity +showed only when Louie, having listened to her arraignment with +downcast eyes, lifted them for a moment to make a modest and quite +immaterial correction. + +"Have the goodness to cease this exaggerated deference, Miss Causton. +It doesn't deceive me. It's only a form of veiled insolence." + +Louie heard her indictment out in silence. + +First blood was drawn when Louie mentioned the name of Roy +Lovenant-Smith. She called him, with aggravating naturalness, "Roy." +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith rose nearly an inch in height. + +"'Roy!'" she echoed. "'Roy,' indeed!" + +"I quite expected Priddy would tell you that first time. Of course he +would. The gardeners here don't like outsiders intruding," said Louie. + +The point told. There was no need to mention the name of Miss +Hastings. Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's face deepened its ochre. + +"Go on, Miss Causton," she said; while Miss Harriet timidly +interposed: "I think that's all you wanted me for?" + +Louie went on. "And anyway, you gave your nephew permission to come on +the premises, which seems to me quite as much against the Rules as +anything there." She pointed to the charge-sheet. + +"Pray go on, Miss Causton," said Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, swallowing her +wrath. Piker Betteridge, counting the moral advantage to be more than +the pain endured, had formerly been wont to thrust out his undefended +jaw in order to prove its invulnerability to attack; Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith was doing something of the same kind now. + +"Pray go on----" she said. + +"And of course that's all bunkum," said Louie, warming, and pointing +once more to the paper in Miss Harriet's hand. "That isn't in the +least what you mean. What you really hate is my having told the girls +what you've had in your mind ever since I came--I mean about my +father." + +"Pray go on!" The jaw was thrust out once more. + +("Perhaps I'd better go?" Miss Harriet still fidgeted. Seedsmen's +daughters are not at their ease at these Olympian conflicts.) + +"All right, I will go on," said Louie, warming still more. "You would +have preferred me to hold my tongue about it, and if you're thinking +of asking me to resign I should like to say now that probably at least +half-a-dozen others will go with me." + +Here, however, Mrs. Lovenant-Smith scored a point. + +"That may have been true a little while ago," she said, "but--go on." +And Louie remembered certain little incidents and unbendings that had +caused it to be indulgently rumoured that "Lovey wasn't such a bad old +sort once you got to know her." Louie conceded the point. + +"Anyway, that's what she does mean," she said, turning to Miss +Harriet--"that she didn't want me to tell them that my father was a +prizefighter and kept a public-house!" + +"Address yourself to me, if you please," ordered Mrs. Lovenant-Smith. + +"Certainly! You've been set against me from the first, for that very +reason; and as for your nephew, I've known him for years and years, +and you've no business at all to have him here, and it would sound +rather well, wouldn't it, if the tale got about that you allowed----" + +But at this Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's hardly held composure gave way with +a snap. Well-born but necessitous Ladies-in-Charge of horticultural +colleges do not submit to being told their duty by the daughters of +pugilists. She stamped on the floor. + +"Silence!" she cried, shaking. "I was a fool ever to have had +you here! You make discipline impossible. You corrupt your +fellow-students--you make a boast of your unfortunate parentage--you +show no respect for the Rules--you think yourself at liberty to come +and go as you please--you carry on a vulgar intrigue----" + +"--not with a gardener----" + +("Oh, I _really_ must go my rounds!" murmured Miss Harriet; but she +lingered; the spectacle of Olympians forgetting themselves does not +occur every day.) + +"--disgracing yourself among younger and more innocent girls----" + +"--with a Lovenant-Smith, anyway----" + +Again the stamp. "I forbid you to mention his name!" + +"Roy----" + +"Leave the room!" + +("Please, please!" besought Miss Harriet.) + +"You will pack your boxes at once!" + +"I shall consult Lord Moone's lawyer first. You accepted my fees--your +college is an imposition from beginning to end, and I'll see that's +known. That will be another scandal----" + +"Ah!" choked Mrs. Lovenant-Smith, perhaps with some hazy recollection +of the law of slander in her head. "You hear that, Miss Chesson? You +hear that? You heard those words?" + +"No, I didn't quite catch--ladies--please!" + +"If you didn't catch it, I said the whole place was a shameless +fraud," said Louie calmly. + +"Very good. Ring the bell, Miss Chesson!" + +But the servant appeared only in time to see Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's +complete collapse. She sank, shaking, into a chair, and gazed +unseeingly into a pigeon-hole of her desk, as if she might find some +help against this devilish girl there. As she clung (as it were) to +the ropes, Louie let her have it (so to speak) on the beezer. + +"You oughtn't to be here at all, really, you know," she said. "You +ought to be in one of those places--you know--in the Queen's gift, at +Kensington or Hampton Court, with the dowagers and maids-of-honour. If +you like I'll ask my uncle whether he can't do anything." + +And without waiting for an answer she swept out, not by the door, but +by the French window. The reflection of the yellow-shaded +standard-lamp swung again as she did so. + +She entered the courtyard by the side door, passed under the dark yew +and the arch beneath the box-room, and made her way through the +orchard. She had reached her pitch at the foot of the hill before she +remembered that she had forgotten her mattress and blankets. She +returned in search of them. Twenty minutes later she was in bed, her +knees up, her hands clasped behind her head. + +She was white with triumph. That woman! Well, Louie thought she had +held her own. She had had the last word, at all events, and an +optic-bunging one too. Now should she leave, or stay? It was entirely +a question of balance between her desire to see the last of the place +and her resolve to go at nobody's pleasure but her own. It might be +that she would have to stay another week in order to avoid the +suspicion that she was turning tail. The fraud of a place! + +She lay, pale and victorious, thinking the matter over. + +One thing was certain; she would not return to Trant. She supposed she +was vindictive by nature, but that would merely mean at the most a +week's gradually increasing strain on her temper and then another +series of embroilings with her mother. A philosophic elf somewhere +deep within her--it was hardly affection--bade her spare her mother +what she had not spared Mrs. Lovenant-Smith. Why seek a known trouble +at Trant? If she must take trouble with her wherever she went, she +might as well take it to a fresh place. + +Before she was aware they had done so, her thoughts had flown to the +vouched-for but incredible things Richenda Earle had said about life +and London. + +Lord Moone had a house, and Captain Chaffinger chambers, in London, +and she knew both. For the rest, her knowledge of the place was pretty +much what Richenda had guessed it to be--shops, restaurants, theatres. +Of her five visits two had been spent at Lord Moone's, two at +Cynthia's friends, the Kayes, and one at an hotel--this not counting +the night on which, having run away from the convent, she had occupied +Chaff's room and had wondered at his large pincushion, his pictures, +and ribboned haircurlers that he doubtless kept in memory of his +departed youth. + +Her father, too, lived in London, or thereby---- + +She fell to wondering about her father. + +There was a full but late-rising moon that night; it had not yet +cleared the tree-tops of the eastern end of the orchard below. She +watched its silver through the topmost boughs. Already it filled the +heavens with a mist of light, dimming the stars; the glister on near +leaves was brighter than the Plough over her head. Scents of the +distant gardens stole undispersed through the night; that of the +night-flowering tobacco-plant was for some minutes almost sicklily +oppressive; and behind her she heard the scurrying of the rabbits at +play. + +It was odd that she thought of her father rather than of Roy. Somehow +only Roy's actual presence had the power to colour those now pale +cheeks of hers. Certainly it had done so that afternoon. For an hour, +aboard the yacht, the rose-peonies in the garden had been paler than +she. But her father had her thoughts now, and the sum of them was that +she would have given much to be able to think of him as not cruel, not +faithless, not a man who had had to be thrust back into the ditch +whence he had come. She might have sought him out then. + +For she was going to London; that was settled. She had her allowance, +more by a half than the income Richenda and her Mr. Weston would +gladly have married on, and not one penny more of it would she waste +at Chesson's. The next day or two would almost certainly provide her +with a "good exit." Then nobody would be able to say she had slunk +out. + +Oh, if her father had but not been a brute! + +The moon cleared the trees, and another too-sweet tract of the +night-flowering tobacco enveloped her. A bird or two stirred. Some +time before she had thought she had heard the sound of a curlew's +whistle, low and not very near, but she had disregarded it. Now it +came again. All the effect it had was to turn her thoughts, tardily +and almost unnoticed by herself, to Roy. + +She knew little about yachts; yachting was no pastime of Lord Moone's; +but even her vaunting mood relaxed to a momentary smile as she +remembered the yacht down under the hill there. Those two boys must be +crazy to risk their lives like that. They had rounded Land's End in +her, and in quite good faith evidently expected the miracle to be +repeated. The only wonder was that the centre-board had gone before +the rest of the crazy fabric. "I told you to put some old clothes on," +Roy had apologised for his vessel, "--and I say--I don't think I'd sit +on the table if I were you--I'm not _quite_ sure about it, you +see--may have to send it to Mazzicombe after all--come on the locker." +So they had sat on the locker---- + +She had felt safer when, half-an-hour later, she had clambered down +into the little dinghy again. It would be Davy Jones's locker for +Master Roy and his friend Mr. Izzard unless some fatherly fisherman +took them and their boat in hand. + +Then came the thoughts of her unknown father again. + + * * * * * + +"_Ee-oooo-eee!_" + +She sat up. The whistle came from the stile up the hill. And suddenly +she knew it was no curlew. It was Roy. + +She listened. + +"_Ee-oooo-eee!_" + +It was Roy. + +She knew he would not seek her farther than the stile. Had there not +been other sleepers just below the orchard, it would still have been +the extreme of his boldness that he had got so far. But--she +remembered how from the first she had been the prime mover in their +entirely wanton flirtation--was it necessarily the extreme of hers? + +Then, as the devil would have it, something brought Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith into her head again. + +That woman! + +All the blood left her cheeks and thronged to her heart again. + +Roy would certainly not pass the stile---- + +She hesitated for a moment longer, and then suddenly got up from her +bed. + +Her clothes were wrapped in her waterproof; she took the waterproof +and put it on. She thrust her feet into a pair of slippers. The +waterproof was not so long as the garment beneath it; the moon was now +well above the trees; it showed the hurrying white about her heels as +she walked quickly up the hill. She drew the under-garment up a +little. The waterproof was almost the colour of the scorched grass. +The small shadow that preceded her was now the thing most plainly to +be seen. + +Over the stile she saw the shoulder of his white sweater. Again her +caution awoke. + +"You might have put a coat on," she said, a little out of breath. "You +can be seen half-a-mile away on a night like this." + +"I thought you were never going to hear me!" he said. + +"Oh! You seem to have been sure I'd come if I did." + +"Well, you have come, haven't you?" he answered. "I say, isn't your +hair different?" + +"Well, it isn't done for a call, if that's what you mean; I always do +it like that at night, stupid. But I'm not going to stand here with +you as white as a cottage wall." + +Thereupon he paid her the only compliment he ever did pay her--and +that was unintentional. + +"It isn't any whiter than your feet, anyway," he said. + +"Well, I'm not going to stop a minute." + +"Oh, dash it all!" he protested. She did think him cool! + +"Good gracious, how long do you think I _am_ going to stay?" + +"Hardly worth coming for, I call it," he grumbled. + +"_Thank_ you!" + +"For you, I mean, of course--as if you didn't know I'd walk miles--how +you take a fellow up!" + +"Well, two minutes." + +Two minutes can be a very short time; five minutes had passed when, +making a movement to free herself, she said: "Let me go now, Roy--I +think we're both as mad as we can be." + +"There isn't anybody about," he muttered. + +More minutes passed; then: + +"Do you really think my feet are white?" she whispered. A slipper had +come off. + +Then, close against his breast, she made an inconsequential, halting +little appeal. "Oh, Roy--don't go in that dreadful boat again! You'll +be drowned--I know you will----" + +"Should you care?" he whispered. + +"Silly boy!" + +"No, but should you care?"... + +"Roy, let me go!" she ordered suddenly. The minutes were passing +fatally quickly. + +"No--no----" + +"Oh--yes----" + +"I won't let you go." + +"Roy, let me go, I say!" + +But it was not a command now. It was a supplication--perhaps not even +that. + + * * * * * + +She did not love him; in her heart she knew she did not love him. He +loved her--years afterwards; only years afterwards. The thought of her +left him--but it returned to him, never to leave him again. The moon +made the crest of the hill like day, but the shadows of the +gorse-bushes lay dark on the short grass and stunted bents and the +patches of wild thyme. The moon southed, then rode less high. In the +short night a lamb called; and then the birds, reaching the shallows +of their sleep, gave a drowsy twittering and went to sleep again. It +was the false dawn. The stars grew a little brighter as a deeper +darkness possessed the earth; then in the darkness a cock crowed. + + * * * * * + +They met again on the next night. On the night after that they met +once more. + +Only after that did she sit down, alone in the box-room, in the +twilight, to think. + +Her boxes were packed and strapped, and the cart was coming for them +from Rainham Magna in the morning. + +She wished Burnett Minor had been there. She would have liked to say +good-bye to the child. There was nobody else it would break her heart +to leave. + +Yet Roy was still down there under the hill. The centre-board had gone +wrong again. She was to see him at the stile, in the morning, before +leaving. It seemed, somehow, superfluous. + +But she did meet him. His face was set, and he had forgotten to +shave. + +"Don't look like that; it wasn't your fault," she said composedly. + +"It was--it was----" he muttered, hands clenched. + +"Rubbish!" She gave a short laugh. "You've nothing at all to blame +yourself for." + +"Oh, I have--I have." + +Then he turned to her. "Louie, you've got to promise me one thing----" + +But she stopped him. She knew what he was going to say. + +"That's quite out of the question," she said. + +"But look here!" He used the words he had used the second time they +had met. "A fellow can't get a girl into a mess and then leave her in +the lurch. You must marry me, Louie, if--if----" + +At that she had found a touch of her old irony. + +"Not unless, of course?" + +"Oh yes--yes." + +But she turned away. "No. Good-bye." + +"Won't you even kiss me?" + +"No." + +But there was a gentleness in her refusal such as he had never had +from her before. Kisses came hardly now. + + + + +PART II + +SUTHERLAND PLACE + + +I + +Richenda Earle could have told Louie Causton that an allowance of +three hundred pounds a year, paid in quarterly instalments, only +permits of a sunny little bedroom and a charming sitting-room in +Lancaster Gate on certain terms, of which terms a dipping sooner or +later into reserves of capital is certainly one. It is true that Louie +still had capital of which she knew nothing. She did not yet, for +example, count her wardrobe as capital, nor reflect that if its +present standard was to be maintained money must be set apart for the +purpose of maintaining it. She did not yet count her time as capital, +nor write off the days she classed as days of "looking about her" as +so many obligations against the time when looking about her would no +longer serve her turn. She did not count her health as capital, nor +her wild, resilient spirits, nor her "placeableness" at a glance among +those whose possession of some capital may be assumed. All she +reckoned as capital was the hundred odd pounds she had placed in a +small but sound bank of her stepfather's recommendation, and (she had +vaguely heard of such things) such additional credit as the Captain's +name might command. But perhaps it is enough to say that she had this +conception of the potency of the Captain's name. + +Nevertheless, her second week's bill at Lancaster Gate was enough to +cause her to send for her landlady, and to ask that person whether she +had not a single room anywhere empty that might combine the prettiness +of her present quarters with the convenience of having all her +belongings within a single door. She was conscious of reasonableness, +almost of magnanimity, when she remarked that she didn't mind going up +another flight of stairs. The landlady had such a room, but pointed +out its lack of cupboard-space and the number of Louie's dresses. +That, Louie replied, did not matter; she intended to sell a number of +the older dresses; and her things were carried upstairs. + +Her idea in selling the older dresses was that thereby she might add +another thirty pounds or so to her balance; the half-dozen she thought +she could spare had cost thrice that amount. The wardrobe dealer who +waited upon her offered her five pounds for them. Louie thanked her, +told her that she had thoughts of going into a business so lucrative +herself, and bade her good-afternoon. + +She had come to London at the beginning of September; before that +month was out she had decided to leave Lancaster Gate. For some reason +or other her quarter's allowance had not arrived, and she wrote to +Chaff about it. Chaff promised to look to the matter. She wrote also +to Richenda Earle, stating the kind of lodging she required, and +asking whether Richenda knew of such an one. To this last letter she +had a reply by return of post. Richenda proposed the house of her +married sister, which was in Sutherland Place, Bayswater. Without +prejudice to her choice, Louie took a walk along Sutherland Place, and +received an impression of a quiet street with milk-carts drawn up by +the kerb and virginia creeper covering the houses with crimson. As she +passed the door Richenda had specified, the door opened, and a squarer +and older Richenda came out with a string bag in her hand. That, Louie +thought, would be Mrs. Leggat, the wife of the estate-agent's clerk. + +A week later Louie moved into Mrs. Leggat's first +floor-front-bed-sitting-room. That night she counted her money. The +result of her calculations caused her to jump up, as if she had +thoughts of seeking some occupation or other that very night. Her +quarter's allowance had still not come. Then Mr. Leggat, a +lumpy-headed man with rabbit teeth and a Duke of Wellington nose, came +in to fix a gas-burner for her, and she fell into talk with him. He +wiped his hands ceaselessly on an old rag as he talked. He told her it +was a pity that Rich had not stuck to her book-keeping; he himself +would have been head clerk by this time had he had her thorough +practical grounding instead of having had to knock about the world and +fend for himself; and he asked her what sort of a villa-building-site +Rainham Parva would, in her opinion, make. He added that it was nice +to have "the rooms" (he used the plural) let to somebody they knew +something about, and then, having omitted to shake hands with her on +coming in, did so before going out, and evidently accounted their +introduction complete. He came back presently for a pair of pincers he +had forgotten, left her a Carter Paterson card for her window in case +she should have need of one, said that one of these Sundays they must +all go round to the Earles in Westbourne Grove to tea, made a pun on +the words Earle and Lord, and went out again. An hour later Louie +heard him tiptoeing discreetly past her door on his way upstairs to +bed. + +Louie was resolved, however, to put a stop to the "Earle and Lord" +business once for all. She was a Causton, not a Scarisbrick, in +Sutherland Place. + +She felt herself to be already on the verge of a new life that +was--let us say amusing--precisely in proportion as it was different +from any life she had ever known. She must be--if the word may +pass--amused; she told herself so, clinching the argument by adding +that it was far better to laugh than to cry. She had promised Richenda +that she would call and see her Mr. Weston at his Business School in +Holborn; and this might be--well, amusing. She went without loss of +time. She took the Oxford Street bus one morning and alighted at the +door of the School. + +She mounted three floors of narrow, old-fashioned stairs, asked a +fair, perky boy, who somehow managed to make a good suit of clothes +look cheap, where she should find Mr. Weston, and presently found +herself introducing herself to a thin and melancholy-looking man with +a sparse and colourless beard, a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles, and +a gentle and hopeless voice. This was "the Secretary Bird," then. He +shook hands slackly with her, placed a chair for her in one of the +bays of a sort of =E= that was lined with books of reference, and +she listened to his soft, dispirited voice and to the clicking of +typewriters in an adjoining room. He thanked her for "all her +kindnesses" to Richenda, whatever these might have been, and presently +a skimpy little woman in green plaid, with eyes that peered +quizzically behind spectacles and "destined spinster" written all over +her, tiptoed for a moment at the end of the bay of books, uncertain +whether to approach. Then the fair, perky boy who made good clothes +look cheap also came up. Mr. Weston said: "Excuse me--yes, Miss +Windus?" Louie saw that she was interrupting the morning's work. She +rose. + +"I daresay we shall see one another again," she said. "Good-bye." + +And, outside on the Holborn pavement again, she said to herself with +decision: "Thanks--but no Business Schools for me!--Poor Richenda!" + +Three weeks later she became a student at that very school. + + * * * * * + +There is no puzzle about it. Some things come no less unexpectedly +that they are more than reasonably to be expected. To put this as +briefly as it can be put, she had merely discovered that an affair of +atmosphere had become an affair of fact. That was all--nothing more, +nothing less. But that was no reason why she should not be amused. + +The natural thing for young women in such circumstances to do is to +seek their mothers. If Louie did this natural thing a little +unnaturally--well, she did it unnaturally, that was all. The row, +scene, or whatever it was going to be, had better be got over; then +she could proceed to amuse herself. She had wired that she was coming; +the Captain had met her at Trant station; but she had had nothing to +say to the Captain. + +The Captain, however, had had something to say to her. At first his +mumbling into his moustache had not penetrated to her intelligence; +she had only heard broken repetitions of "Dear old Mops--only for a +week or two--knew you weren't without--meant to write, but dashed +awkward thing to explain by letter, and was coming up in a week in any +case--if she stuck fast he'd see what could be done----" + +"Eh?" Louie had said at last. "What's that, Chaff?" + +Chaff had repeated his mumblings. At the end of them she had gathered +that the needy Captain had borrowed the quarter's allowance that had +been entrusted to him for despatch. Louie had merely given a little +preoccupied laugh and patted his hand. + +"All right, old boy; don't worry," she had said. + +A sample or two of her conversation with her mother must answer for +the rest. For quite twenty minutes the Honourable Emily's head had +been buried in the sofa-cushions, and the Trant coal-and-blanket +charitable account had lain where it had fallen from her hand--across +her cheek. + +"That's all," Louie had ended with hard composure. + +"Oh--oh----" the mother had moaned. + +"And as I say, I won't marry him." + +"Oh--you must--you must!" + +"Why? Because Uncle Augustus will say I must?" + +"Oh--you must!" + +"I'll go and see Uncle Augustus." + +"Oh, you mustn't--you mustn't!" + +Then, in an interlude, the reasons why everything must at all costs be +kept from Lord Moone had been brokenly explained. In another interlude +a few minutes later Louie had invented a fictitious name. + +"That conveys nothing to me," Mrs. Chaffinger had moaned. "What is +he?" + +Louie had invented a station in life to fit the name. Her mother's +face had disappeared behind the coal-and-blanket account again. + +"And this--this!--is your study of horticulture!" she had half +faintingly wailed. + +"Yes. Yours was art, wasn't it?" + +Then Mrs. Chaffinger's querulous despair had shown a weak, vindictive +gleam. Both pronouns had been a little emphasised as she had retorted: + +"I married your father!" + +It was only a flicker. Her head had gone into the cushions again. + +"That didn't last very long," the devilish girl had commented. + +"I married your father, I say--for your sake," had come from the +cushions. + +"That's one of the differences. There are others. If you're thinking +of wiring to Uncle Augustus I'll wait; if you're not, I'll go." + +Lord Moone had been wired for. He had wired back: "Impossible"; but a +second wire had brought him over post-haste the next morning. The +situation had been explained to him; the peer had walked away for a +few moments; Louie had thought she had heard something about "our +damnable women"; then, coming back, Lord Moone had abruptly convened a +Committee of Ways and Means. Words like "Impossible ... once in a +lifetime quite enough ... secrecy ... the Continent for a few months +... institution," had been used; and at one other alternative Louie's +eyes had become hard and chill as ice. + +"Thank you," she had come harshly in. "As you say, all these things +may be possible. I decline them all." + +Then Lord Moone, whose habit of ordering masses of men probably misled +him into thinking that the ordering of one young woman who says "I +won't" was a comparatively simple matter, had made his pronouncement. + +"Very well," he had said. "Then as head of the family I order that +your allowance shall be stopped till you come to your senses. You hear +that, Emily?" + +"You mean you'll starve me out?" Louie had said, with dancing eyes. +Like her father, she came up to time as long as she could stand. + +"I mean what I've said." + +"Then ring the bell, please--and don't light that cigar till I've +gone. I shall be ill if you do." + +And Lord Moone himself had ordered the carriage in which she had +turned her back on Trant. + +Burnett Minor, when Mrs. Lovenant-Smith had surprised the rebellion in +the box-room, had not made herself more inconspicuous than had Captain +Chaffinger during this scene. Indeed, probably considering that Lord +Moone, his sister and Louie herself formed a quorum, he had presently +been discovered to be not there. But it seemed to be the Captain's lot +to receive and despatch Louie in her comings and goings, and before +the carriage had reached the lodge he had stopped it and climbed in. +Ordinarily, the whites of the Captain's eyes had yellowish marblings; +the yellow had now deepened to the hue of cayenne. He had blown his +nose repeatedly and violently, and Louie, glancing covertly at him, +had suddenly had a pang. All at once he had shown his age. Somehow +Louie resented his doing so. People and things you have never taken +quite seriously have no right to come near the tragic. It was as if +some puppet strutting within a proscenium should suddenly bleed. + +"Mops," he had said by-and-by, blowing his nose again, "that was a lie +you told them, wasn't it?" + +Louie had tried to shut her eyes to Chaff's bleeding. Her hand had +sought his. + +"The name I told them? Of course it was, you clever old Chaff, to see +that." + +"You don't tell me that, do you, Mops?" + +"You?! No, poor old boy, it isn't worth while telling lies to you." + +"I'm glad of that, Mops----" + +So, for his private comfort, she had invented for Chaff quite a new +lie, name, station in life and all. + +Then: "Oh, Mops, Mops, Mops!----" he had murmured sorrowfully. + +Little parties were one thing, but his Mops quite another. + +But her anger had stirred again. She had remembered her uncle's +proposals. + +"Did you hear what he said--Moone? No; you'd gone out. Listen----" + +He had tugged unhappily at his moustache as she had told him, bringing +out the words with vehemence and hate. + +"Well, but, Mops----" he had demurred wistfully. + +"What, are you going to tell me _you_ think so too?" + +"All right, Mops, all right, all right, old girl----" + +"Much I care for him and his family name! He could bully mother into +marrying people, but he can't bully me.... Sorry, Chaff, that was +clumsy; we're pals at any rate. Uncle Gus and his Scarisbricks!" + +Her exclamations of contempt had occupied the rest of the time to the +station. Chaff had put her into her carriage. + +"You'll let me know where you are and what you're doing, won't you, +dear?" he had pleaded. "I can't let you go like this!" + +"I hardly know where I shall be myself yet. Very likely I shall go to +a Business School; I shall have to do something, and that's all I know +anything about. Anyway, the bank will find me--no, you poor old thing, +of course I don't mean the money! Of course I'll ask you for that +when I want it. I've quite a lot yet. Good-bye, old thing." + +"Good-bye, dear." + +And this time he had not warned her not to run away with a student of +book-keeping. + + * * * * * + +She went to the Business School partly (_bien entendu_) for amusement, +and partly because there would be very little sense in sitting all day +long in Mrs. Leggat's first-floor bed-sitter in Sutherland Place, +Bayswater. Perhaps, too, Lord Moone helped to drive her there. Her +very skin crept when she remembered the lengths to which he would have +gone--he, the corner-stone of orthodoxy when such subjects came up for +(very) full-dress debate--to save that precious thing, the family name +of the Scarisbricks. Louie had had vanities of person, scores of them; +but she had also the sense of the holiness of the body, and she had +had enough of Trants and Mallard Boises and their masters for a time. +The Business School would be as amusing as anywhere else; indeed, she +knew of nowhere else. Here she was at last in a London that was not +the London of shops and dinners and theatres and drives in the Park. +She would have the fun--always the fun--of it. She would go with the +Leggats to see Richenda's sisters and that father of hers who had +apologised to her for having brought her into the world. She would +learn these unfamiliar accents that met her ear, breathe this +invigorating if dusty air. She would know what life meant to that +skimpy woman in the green plaid, would inspect that new specimen, the +jaunty boy who made his good clothes look like an ordinary +"reach-me-down." And she knew, without knowing how she knew, that +before long she would be seeing her father. Sit in Sutherland Place? +Oh no, that wasn't amusing. Besides, she would presently have her +living to earn. She had thought, when Richenda had told her those +dismal tales, that there must be something wrong with Richenda and +that she herself would be able to do better. Well, she would very soon +know. + + +II + +At Chesson's she had taken her proper place among her fellow-students +at once; it was not her fault if here, at the Business School, she did +not at first so much make friends as watch a number of amusing +phenomena. She watched them with wonder; all was so very, very +different. The building itself seemed once to have been some sort of a +dwelling-house, for there were cabbagey wall-papers of a bygone +fashion on the walls, broken ends of bell-wire stuck out from the +mantel-sides and the cornices, and the gas-brackets were old and +ornate and grimy. Louie was conscious of something like a shock the +first time she approached one of the third-floor bay windows and, +looking across the street, saw in the windows opposite men packing +things in brown paper, waitresses carrying trays, and gas-jets burning +in the dark interiors beyond. They seemed so near. The width of +Holborn lay between, but they seemed to crowd on her much more closely +than the yew at Rainham Parva had ever crowded on the inner windows of +the courtyard. The yew, moreover, was thinned at intervals, but there +was no cutting and lopping the forward-thrusting, amusing humanity +across the way. They seemed to be caged there expressly for her +observation. Well, she was there to observe--to observe, and, of +course, to be amused. + +Her new companions, too, were unlike anybody she had ever known; they +no more resembled them than the sweet heavy airs of Chesson's +resembled these diverting smells of dust and damp and bad ventilation +and the whiff of the Holborn pavement below. Their accents (amusing, +however) struck her sharply; their faces--alert, sophisticated, highly +entertaining but without candour--no less sharply. They too, like the +buildings across the way, seemed to ignore intervening space and to +press intrusively forward to look at her. She was glad that the first +thing she had done had been to stop Mr. Weston's mouth on the subject +of the Scarisbricks and Lord Moone; half the drollery of her +experience would have gone had these people known who she really was. +And the things these slovenly voices said had no candour. They struck +her as a series of (merry) "scorings-off," a succession of (cheery) +"chippings" of one another. If their reticences seemed all in the +wrong places, and hand in hand with their defensiveness went an eager +volubility about the things Louie would have kept to herself, why, so +much the more laughable the whole joke. + +She had been only just in time in extorting her promise from Mr. +Weston. She was sure of this from his manner of speaking to herself. +It was extremely, syllabically distinct. To words that he had been +pronouncing correctly and without thought all his life he gave (as if +he must find something superior for her, and knowing better all the +time) pronunciations marvellously new. He found new words, too; must +look 'em up, Louie thought, in the dictionary. Richenda, who had begun +by being his sweetheart, became his "intended," and once even his +"inamorata." But he was to be trusted. Louie saw that. If he gave +away her identity at all it would be only by the portentousness of his +secrecy. As a matter of fact he never did so. + +It was the skimpy woman in the green plaid, Miss Windus, who answered +most of Louie's questions about her new companions. She too was a +delightful novelty to Louie. As if to make her own position quite +clear at the outset, she had confided to Louie at once that she +herself was "partly independent." Seeing Louie's slightly puzzled +look, she had gone on to explain that by this she meant that she +enjoyed an income of perhaps a pound a week "on her own." With this +title to consideration thoroughly understood, she went ahead. When +Louie asked a question about the high-heeled little Cockney Jewess, +Miss Levey, Miss Windus answered it in terms of her own pound a week. +"Miss Levey?" she said. Oh, she'd nothing; she lived at home and had +her fees paid for her, of course, and wouldn't stick fast, being a +Jewess, not she; but Kitty didn't suppose Miriam Levey had one +shilling to rub against another; not, that was, "on her own." Louie, +finding other questions answered from this same standpoint, took her +cue and framed her questions accordingly. Had the other female student +(there were only four women), Miss Soames, anything? Well, Kitty +didn't know; she fancied her aunt must have a tidy bit coming in; they +lived together in a boarding-house in Woburn Place, and as the aunt +did nothing all day perhaps she too was partly independent, or even +wholly so. Had Mr. Merridew, the swaggering boy who cheapened his +clothes so curiously, a tidy bit coming in? Here Kitty evidently had a +tale to tell. Had Archie Merridew a bit coming in, indeed! Why, his +father was Mr. Merridew of Merridew and Fry's, the fancy stationers +with branches everywhere, so Louie could judge for herself whether +that meant a bit or not! Archie a bit? Why, Mr. Merridew Senior had +retired, and lived at a big place near Guildford, with a tennis-lawn, +if you please. Archie Merridew a bit!--Then what about Mr. Mackie? +(Louie might have been estimating people by what money they had all +her life.)--Mr. Mackie? No, Kitty shouldn't think Mr. Mackie had very +much, but he had a splendid "permanency" offered him when he had +passed his examinations, as an auctioneer's clerk, four pounds a week +to start with--to start with, mind you--and a "rise" every year. Yes; +Mr. Mackie was all right, and, oh dear! _wasn't_ Mr. Mackie funny? + +Louie thought this Mr. Mackie more than funny; in her inexperience of +the type she could never believe he was quite true. For Mr. Mackie +sang songs, imitated music-hall artistes, could "gag" for a whole day +on end, and never forget for a moment the immense success he was. He +fascinated Louie. "Ladies and bipeds in trousers!" he would begin, +with rapid gestures and still more rapid speech, "before the applause +I am waiting for has had time to subside--good word, subside--(thank +you, Cuthbert, you can take the bouquet round to the stage-door)--as I +was saying when Fitzclarence interrupted me, ladies and tripeheads in +blouses, whoa, backpedal, never mind--as I was saying, I will now +endeavour to give you my celebrated imitation of Roderigo the +gasfitter at one o'clock on a Saturday with the thirty bob in his +pocket and Hildegarde Ann his wife licking the paint of the lamp-post +at the corner to squench her thirst--_heu_, her thirst!... Chord on, +please, titillate the catgut, Professor, and take firm hold of his +hand, girls----" + +Then, while the eyes of Lord Moone's niece would grow bigger and +bigger, would follow the performance. + +"_Isn't_ he funny!" Kitty would giggle, faint with laughing; "oh, give +us some more, Mr. Mackie!" + +And Kitty, like Saint Paul, died daily at yet another trick of Mr. +Mackie's--the putting of his handkerchief to his nose, and the drawing +of it slowly downwards to the accompaniment of a piercing whistle. + +But Louie was only moderately amused by young Merridew. Mr. Mackie had +his own perfection; but vulgarity _with_ a tennis-lawn! "Good +gracious, no," said Louie. + +She had entered the School as a day student; but within a week she had +put her name down for the evening classes also. Even then she had the +evenings of Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and the whole of Sunday +quite unamusingly on her hands. She did not want time on her hands. As +much Mr. Mackie as you pleased, but no time on her hands. So she +joined the classes that met on the evenings of Mondays, Wednesdays and +Fridays. + +On her very first evening she saw a student whom she had not seen +before. + +She had taken a text-book on Elementary Book-keeping from one of the +shelves of the =E= of books in which she had had her first talk +with Mr. Weston (who, by the way, had said that he would like to see +her for a few minutes before she left that evening), and finding a +chair within the recess, had sat down where she was to read it. She +had not looked up when somebody had passed the mouth of her little +compartment and entered the next one. She had heard a book taken down +from a shelf behind her, and, after some minutes, put back again; and +had she not chanced to straighten her back at that moment she would +probably not have seen the man repass. She had no time to notice more +than that he was very big and not very well dressed. She went on with +her reading, wondering, in the intervals of her slack attention to her +book, what Mr. Weston wanted with her. + +She saw the big man again at the close of the class. This time he was +standing at the head of the stairs, waiting for young Merridew. He +really was immensely big, so big that a too prolonged first look at +him seemed unpleasantly like impertinent curiosity. Indeed, he seemed +already to feel her eyes upon him, for he moved as if to look back at +her in turn; but young Merridew came up at that moment and they went +out together. The big man's head and shoulders were to be seen beyond +the handrail for quite an appreciable moment of time after young +Merridew's had disappeared. But she had been wrong in thinking that he +wore a shabby suit. His suit might be shabby also, but it could not be +seen. He wore, and had apparently worn in class also, a tawny old +ulster of yellow and black check. In spite of its age it seemed +somehow a better garment than did the more expensive clothes of his +companion. He did not, however, strike her as very amusing. + +She turned away to seek the Secretary Bird--Mr. Weston. + +For the moment Mr. Weston was engaged. He was standing near the +lecture-room blackboard, talking to the girl who lived with her partly +independent aunt at the boarding-house in Woburn Place. Louie had +already remarked the likeness of this girl, who might have been twenty +but looked younger, to Polly Ross, the pretty daughter of the tipsy +veterinary surgeon at Trant. Polly too had sported that running of +pale blue ribbon beneath the openwork of what Kitty Windus called her +"pneumonia blouse," and the clumps of dark hair on her nape too was +like Polly's, and she had Polly's dark and sidelong glance, and highly +conscious air of unconsciousness when that glance had attracted what +it had probably been meant to attract, attention to herself. She had a +copy of the Pansy Library in her hand, and Louie smiled as she +remembered Burnett Minor and her spoutings. She waited until Weston +should be at liberty. + +As she waited, Kitty Windus, wearing an Inverness cape and a +boat-shaped hat, came up. Miss Windus lived in a street off Tottenham +Court Road, and already once or twice Louie had walked with her as far +as the Oxford corner. She was waiting for the Polly Ross girl now, +whose direction was the same. She asked Louie whether she intended to +walk or to "hop on a bus." She always spoke in these rather sprightly +terms, just as she always stiffened the line of her back a little the +moment a man, any man, entered the room; and she referred, brightly +and hopefully, to proposals of marriage as "chances." Louie was +already learning when she might expect any given one of Kitty's +innumerable _cliches_, and had several times (humorously) given them +back to Kitty again with complete success. As they waited for the +Polly Ross girl (whose name was Evie Soames) Louie asked Kitty who the +big man who had gone out with Mr. Merridew was. + +"Oh, the Mandrill!" said Kitty, laughing even before Louie had got out +the word "big." "That's Mr. Jeffries. Isn't he a caution? But he only +comes in the evenings." + +She meant that Mr. Jeffries had not a pound a week on his own. +Students who only came in the evenings were of a slightly inferior +order to those who came during the day. + +"I suppose he had his brown paper parcel with him?" Kitty said, with +more mirth in her peering little eyes. + +Louie remembered that Mr. Jeffries had carried a brown paper parcel. +Kitty twittered. + +"Bet you can't guess what was in it--that is, if you haven't heard +it?" + +She said "it" as if it had been a riddle or some sort of a joke. Louie +admitted that she could not guess what had been in Mr. Jeffries' +parcel. + +"Good old brown paper parcel!" Kitty chuckled. "You'll get to know it +by-and-by! You see," she explained, "he goes to Archie's for a bath. +Isn't it killing?" + +"I--I don't quite see what you mean," said Louie. She honestly did +not. + +"Why, for a bath--you know, a common or garden bath, with hot water. I +peeped into it once (the parcel, I mean; for shame, you dreadful +girl!) and it had a clean shirt and a pair of socks in it. I suppose +he wraps those he takes off up when he's done." + +Louie's eyes had opened very wide indeed. A man to have to ask another +man for a bath! Well, that was something learned about London! A +bath--a thing so necessary that its existence was assumed--how +extremely amusing! She knew that entertaining word, "poor," but what +was this other, this new and side-splitting word that meant that a man +had to ask another man for a bath? She had never heard of anything +so--so--there was no adjective that quite fitted the humour of it. + +The next moment she had wasted an irony on Kitty. + +"Hasn't he--a tidy bit?" she asked. + +But it took far more than this to get through Kitty's hide. She gave +another little laugh and drew her gloves more smoothly over her thin +hands. + +"Him? The Mandrill? (I always call him the Mandrill, my dear.) Not a +penny to bless himself with; look at him!" + +"Nor a permanency?" Louie asked. + +"What, with those clothes? I ask you, now: it isn't a cold night +to-night, is it? Well, why does he keep that heavy old coat on all the +evening? Enough said, my dear. He works somewhere in the City, I +believe--'something in the City'--sounds most prosperous, doesn't it? +And Archie's awful kind to him, I think, but of course he is +frightfully clever, and does help Archie with his work sometimes, so +Archie gives him a bath (I don't mean what you mean, I mean lets him +have one). Here's Evie. Are you coming along?" + +But Louie, besides being tickled, smarted a little too. To have to beg +for a bath--and then to have the gift made a matter of common +knowledge and a joke!-- + +Well, if these people were different, differences, after all, were +what she was here to see. + +She turned to Mr. Weston. + +What Mr. Weston wanted to say to her she could not guess; but he had +hardly spoken twenty words before she was smiling at herself for not +guessing. The examinations were to be held just before Christmas, and +unless Louie could be ready for her Elementary by that time she would +have a good many months to wait before she could enter for the +examination again. What Mr. Weston had to propose was, in a word, that +he should coach her privately. + +She knew what that meant. It meant that he would come to Sutherland +Place on Sundays and talk about Richenda. + +Well, even talk about Richenda would make shorter that _dies non_. + +"It really would be a great furtherance of your aims, Miss Causton," +Weston said wistfully. + +Louie smiled at the periphrasis, and then considered. + +"It might be the best thing to do," she said; "but of course I should +accept it only on one condition." + +"May I venture to inquire what that condition is?" Weston inquired +deferentially. + +"That you let me pay you for it," said Louie promptly. + +But Weston put up a peremptory hand. "Oh no--no, no, no--I should be +ashamed after all your kindnesses----" + +Louie laughed again. "Good gracious, what kindnesses?" + +"Ah, you once shielded an individual very dear to me and took the +blame upon yourself, Miss Causton----" His tone was reverential, his +eyes did her homage. Louie had forgotten all about the box-room +rebellion and Mrs. Lovenant-Smith. She laughed once more. + +"Well, just as you like. But no pay, no coaching, that's all." + +Weston sighed. No doubt his acquiescence cost him a pang. If he took +money for giving lessons, lessons he must give, and the talk about +Richenda must go. + +"Do you dwell on the point with insistence?" he asked. + +"Very much." + +"I am far from denying that it would be of some assistance in the +furnishing of our future nest, if I may use the expression----" + +"Of course it would. So that's agreed?" + +"So be it," said Weston. + +Louie half expected him to add: "Amen." + +She was in the habit of dispensing money a little largely, and for the +present she could quite well afford to do this. For Chaff had done +more than pay his debt. That very day she had had a letter from him, +forwarded by the bank. He had paid one hundred pounds into her +account, asking her to regard the extra twenty-five pounds as interest +on his unceremonious borrowing. But she did not for a moment believe +his cheerful tale that "things were all right again now"; poor old +boy, ten to one he had borrowed pretty ruinously elsewhere in order to +pay her. At all events, Weston should not give up his Sundays for +nothing, and she might, after all, allow him an outpouring about +Richenda and the future nest once in a while. It was only half-a-crown +a week. + +But as she left Weston she was thinking of something else that +half-a-crown a week had power to buy. Half-a-crown a week would have +bought this big shabby student a bath almost every day. + +To have to carry a change of underclothing in a brown paper parcel to +another man's place---- + +And to have that parcel peeped into---- + +How damnable--no, how funny, she meant! + +In the light of her knowledge of this extraordinary economy Mr. +Jeffries had to practise she felt--she didn't know why--almost shy in +his presence the next time she saw him. She felt that she possessed +something of his--namely, this knowledge--which she ought not to have +possessed. She wondered whether he knew how he had been given away. +Something about him almost suggested that he might. + +Perhaps it was his mouth. It looked, except when he deliberately +opened it, as if it might very well not have opened during the whole +of the twenty-eight or twenty-nine years Louie guessed him to have had +a mouth at all. The rest of his face, which would have been too large +for any man less huge, was an unrelenting slab. It was in the mouth if +anywhere that sensitiveness must be looked for. Certainly there was none +in the eyes. These Louie found (it was on a Wednesday night that she +noticed these things; she had seen him first on a Monday) remarkable. +They were the eyes of a lion--clear amber, sherry-coloured. They were +made more than ever to resemble the eyes of a lion by that tawny +ulster he never removed, and she remembered Kitty's sinister and +mirthful suggestion. Did his keeping on of that ulster mean something +hardly less stark and laughable than the circumstance of the bath +itself? (Louie felt that she was learning.) Then she noticed his +hands. She always noticed hands. He stopped in passing to pick up a +pen for her. The hand that returned it was not only a magnificent +engine of sinew and bone and muscle, powerful and heroic; it was also +(this was not so funny) exquisitely kept. Her own hand, pale and +slender as the leaf of a willow by contrast with his, was not in its +different way more perfect. He might cadge for a bath, but his hands +he could look after himself for nothing. And that was true of his hair +also. It was tawny, close-cut, and took the light as cleanly as a new +silk-hat; hair-brushing was evidently cheap also. The man did what he +could. She would have liked to hear his voice, but he handed her the +pen in silence and passed on. + +"Well, he looks forbidding," was her comment on him as the great +church-door of his back disappeared into the typewriting-room, "and +he has got too big a face and a rather frightening jaw; but he does +shave it properly, and I don't see where the 'Mandrill' comes +in--wretched little creature with her pound a week! And he is like a +lion, with those eyes and that ulster----" + +And merely because he seemed to be a person to be scored off and given +meanly away, she was already prepared, had she been challenged, to vow +that he was handsome--in his heavy and unhumorous way. As a matter of +fact, if Roy Lovenant-Smith resembled the little terra-cotta head in +the Tanagra Gallery of the Museum, this Mr. Jeffries suggested +something from the Assyrian Gallery downstairs--something in black +basalt, that might carry the doorway of a temple on its head. In any +case, with the ulster, the eyes, and the silky tawny hair, he was as +like a lion as needs be. + +When she had seen him twice only she took it upon herself to snub +young Merridew on his behalf. + +She and Kitty were leaving the School at four o'clock on the Thursday +afternoon when the son of the fancy stationer joined them, and, taking +it quite for granted that his tidy bit and his tennis-lawn made him as +desirable to Louie as they evidently exalted him in Kitty's eyes, +walked westwards along Holborn with them. He wore a new red waistcoat +with brass buttons, and perhaps it was in order to live up to his +splendour that he made Louie an offer which she curtly declined. They +were passing a confectioner's shop; perhaps he noticed--for he seemed +a sharp enough little bounder--Louie's glance at the window; he turned +to her. + +"Like some chocs?" he said. + +Had Louie not already detested him, this would have been quite +enough. Priddy would have had less appalling manners. As it happened, +she would have liked some chocolates; lately she had craved for +chocolates as much as she had hated the smell of tobacco; but she +wanted no chocolates of this young man's buying. + +"No, thank you," she replied; and presently she contrived to put Kitty +(the straight-backed Kitty whom a man accompanied) between Mr. +Merridew and herself. + +She had the outside berth of the pavement, and she was wondering +whether she would not cross the road and hop on a bus, leaving Kitty +and the heir to the tennis-lawn together, when something Kitty said +detained her. It was something about Mr. Jeffries. Hitherto Louie had +hardly been listening. + +"--oh, Jeff!" Merridew was saying. "He'll have to go till we come +back. Anyway I shall save half-a-cake of soap." + +"There's such a lot _of_ him," Kitty giggled. "How big's your bath?" + +"Well, he's an awfully useful coach for the Method exam., I will say +that for him; so we'll call it a fair swap. You know Evie's aunt, +don't you?" + +"No." + +"Thought you did. Good old Aunt Angela! (She always gets ratty when I +call her that.) I didn't know she was an old friend of the pater's +till we saw 'em at the Zoo that Sunday. So that's why they're coming." + +"Oh, perhaps, perhaps not," said Kitty archly. "Perhaps it isn't the +aunt they want to see----" + +A passer-by elbowed Louie off the pavement; all she caught of what +followed was Kitty's laugh. + +"So that accounts for the new blouse! You never think of asking _me_ +down to Guildford, Archie!" she said reproachfully. + +"You must get a chaperon," Archie replied gallantly; "can't be did +without, Kitt-oh. The mater don't allow running after yours truly." + +Then of another light passage Louie heard only the concluding laugh. + +"Well, what of it?" Archie was saying knowingly; and Louie heard +something else about apron-strings. "Pale blue baby ribbon ones, eh +what?" Archie added, with a grin. + +"Archie!" Kitty reproved him. + +"Oh, come off it!" replied the fancy stationer's son. "As if a fellow +hadn't eyes! If you girls _will_ wear pneumonia blouses----" + +"Archie, you're dreadful!" said Kitty, deliciously shocked. + +"Well, it's a tannersworth at the Holborn Public Baths for Jeff next +week-end----" + +Here Louie interposed. Even amusement can be too rich. "Good-bye," she +said, "there's my bus." + +She heard Kitty call after her something about the penny stage, but by +that time she was half-way across the road. + +Brass-buttoned little beast! + +She got on her bus. + +But a quarter of a mile farther on she descended from it again. She +wanted to buy chocolates for herself. She bought them, walked to the +Marble Arch, and there turned into the Park. She ate the chocolates as +she walked. + +Little animal! He appeared to keep the whole School posted about Mr. +Jeffries' personal habits. He could not go down to his home for the +week-end, taking the Polly Ross girl and her aunt with him +apparently, but Mr. Jeffries and half-a-cake of soap must be dragged +in. And that pathetic, pathetic care the man took of his hair and +hands! For all that, as she strode along, crunching her chocolates, +she became almost angry with him too. Was soap so frightfully dear, +and was there no water anywhere but at Mr. Merridew's rooms? She could +not understand a man who had any sensitiveness at all suffering his +mind to be turned over and inspected and thumb-marked by these people +in this way. + +Still, she must not forget that these things were diverting. + +There was no class that night: Louie forced herself to apply herself +to her book-keeping until half-past nine, and then went to bed. That, +as has been said, was on a Thursday. On the following evening, feeling +indisposed to work, she moved about the School, amusing herself to her +heart's content. She was getting adept in the sport of it. She bandied +back to Kitty Windus, with whom she found herself in talk, +half-a-score of her own expressions: "Beg yours," "Granted," "As the +poet says," and the like; and she all but openly stalked Mr. Mackie +for the sake of the pearls that rippled from his lips. If Mr. Mackie +had offered to take her for a walk or to a shilling hop at the Holborn +Town Hall on the next blank evening, Lord Moone's niece, who must +allow no chance of amusement to slip her, would have let him. Indeed, +she was in two minds whether or not to go to this last place of +entertainment alone. + +It was not for another week that her amusement at the School in +general and at Mr. Jeffries in particular became almost painfully +ecstatic. + + +III + +On that Friday afternoon she did not go home as usual to Sutherland +Place to tea. She went instead to the tea-shop across the street the +waitresses of which seemed to crowd upon her as if the width of +Holborn did not exist. As she sat down at her little marble table she +glanced involuntarily across to the windows of the Business School and +for a moment dropped the mask to herself. "Dingy place!" she thought; +"well, we're a dingy crew inside it." Then, after a long, long walk +down Chancery Lane and along the Embankment almost as far as the +ship-breakers' yard at Millbank, she returned to evening class. + +It was the evening before the day when Polly Ross--she begged her +pardon, Miss Evie Soames--was to go with her aunt to the house with +the tennis-lawn at Guildford. Young Merridew was not at the School +that evening; indeed, he had only been once in the evening all the +week, and then, Louie had thought (dropping the mask for another +moment) he had better have stopped away. In a word, she had not been +sure that he had been entirely sober. But perhaps in that she had been +wrong. It didn't matter. She set a wide difference between the +gaieties of the sons of fancy stationers with a tidy bit coming in and +such diversions as that to which her stepfather had once taken her, +pigtail and all. Besides, if people didn't drink liquor she supposed +her father would not be able to sell it. + +On two occasions already during the past week that mask of her +amusement had not so much fallen off as been twitched off before she +herself had been aware. Very remarkably, both times the big leonine +student, Mr. Jeffries, had been the twitcher. In both cases the actual +incident had been the same--a glance, nothing more. But those two +glances had set Louie very curiously indeed waiting to see whether a +third surprise of the same funny kind would follow them. + +The glances had been given by Mr. Jeffries, and they had been directed +towards the Soames girl. There had seemed to Louie to be an +extraordinary unfitness about them. Had the red-waistcoated boy stolen +those glances Louie would have thought no more about it; he and Polly +Ross were pretty much a pair; but they had surprised her coming from +the other. Louie had been sure that on the first occasion Mr. Jeffries +had fancied himself to be unobserved, for he had looked stealthily +round about him, had waited for a moment, and then, moving his eyes +only, had given that long, slow, daring, masterful look. This had been +on the previous Monday evening, in the general room. A few minutes +later Mr. Jeffries had gathered up his papers and had stridden past +Evie Soames as if he had been unaware of her existence. + +Even had something very similar not occurred again on the Wednesday +evening, Louie would hardly have forgotten that look; but it had been +repeated. But this time, finding Louie's eyes on him, he had seemed to +guard himself, to busy himself quite fussily with his papers, and a +little to overdo his sudden affectation of indifference. Louie +admitted that it would be at her own risk that she put any +interpretation that was not amusing on these trifles; but about the +glances, their surreptitiousness and the man's deliberate attempt at +concealment, there had been no doubt whatever. Polly herself, Louie +had to admit, had been quite unconscious of either look. To all +appearances, she had been thinking of nothing but of the new +novelette in the Pansy Library, or else wondering whether the new +pair of shoes she was to go down to Guildford in would come home in +time. + +On that Friday evening Louie again found herself a little less +inclined for amusement than she knew to be good for her. She supposed +she ought to work, for if book-keeping and typewriting and so forth +were to be her living they might just as well be taken seriously; but +she preferred to work where gossip was going on. So she began the +evening in one of the days in the =E= of reference books, where +Miss Windus and the thick-lipped Miss Levey were sitting on the short +library-ladder, whispering and tittering. Louie opened one of the +windows, for she found the place airless, and then idled towards her +two fellow-students. + +She had gathered that Miss Levey did not like her. Miriam Levey was +far less stupid than Kitty Windus, and it was not safe to hand her +_cliches_ back to her. Indeed, she had given Louie a far too +intelligent look when Louie had gratified this hunger for humour of +hers at the unconscious Kitty's expense; and Louie had told herself +that it might be as well to be a little more careful. They looked up +as Louie joined them, but did not exclude her from their talk. + +"I _vill_ find out who she is!" Miss Levey was saying--her W's did +sometimes become V's. "I shall plague him till I do!" + +"He won't tell you, my dear--not if he wouldn't tell Archie." + +"But did Archie actually say 'engaged'?" + +"Well, a person's either engaged or not, I suppose." + +"Oh no, my dear, not by long chalks! Vy, you might as well say that +Archie and Evie are either engaged or not!" + +"Well, they aren't--yet." + +"'Yet'--there you are!" + +"Well, I'll bet they aren't, even after this week-end. Why, they're no +age! _I_ don't believe in getting yourself engaged and done for before +you've had a good look round!" Kitty tossed her head. + +"Vill you bet they aren't engaged in three months?" said Miriam Levey. + +No, Kitty wouldn't bet that. She returned to the original subject, +whatever that had been. + +"It's all very well to say you'll find out, Miriam, but--how?" + +Miss Levey tittered, and then suddenly said: "Ssss--I'll show you now! +Just you watch me----" + +She slipped noiselessly round to the cords of the window Louie had +opened a few moments before. + +No doubt her sharp eyes had seen Mr. Jeffries approach. She gave him a +helpless look, and he took the cords from her fumbling hands and +closed the window for her. It was the more cleverly done that she +detained Mr. Jeffries and managed to get closed the window which Louie +wanted open at one and the same time. She turned her prominent brown +eyes in gratitude to Mr. Jeffries. + +"Oh, thank you so much! You see, I've got rather a cold, and I'm going +to a dance and don't vant to make it any vorse," she explained. "You +don't dance, do you, Mr. Jeffries?" + +But Mr. Jeffries merely replied "No," and turned away at once. Miss +Levey turned to Kitty again. + +"He needn't think he's put me off!" she said. "I _vill_ find out! I +shall offer him some tickets now, for self and lady. And I bet if she +dances I'll make him buy them!" + +Kitty tossed her head. "_I_ should expect the gentleman _I_ was +engaged to to take _me_ to dances," she said. + +"But Archie didn't say 'engaged.' Just after somebody, I should +say--and don't I just vish her joy!" + +"It's evidently nobody at the School," mused Kitty Windus. "Archie was +almost certain about that." + +"Vell, it isn't _me_, if you're thinking of suspecting me!" said Miss +Levey merrily. "_I_ vouldn't touch him with the end of a long pole." + +"Chance is a fine thing, my dear," remarked Miss Windus. + +"Opportunity's another." (This reply, Louie had noted, was _de +rigueur_.) + +"I expect she types or something at his place in the City." + +"She might be in an A.B.C. shop--no, a Lockhart's." + +"Or a barmaid," Kitty hinted. + +"Or his vashervoman." + +"Oh, I expect he washes his own shirts." + +"Perhaps he'll vash her blouses, too, whoever she is." + +They both laughed. + +Louie, her mask once more a little out of place, turned suddenly away. + +Little as she had been inclined to work, she was now, somehow or +other, not much more inclined for amusement. She wandered into the +shorthand dictation class, but in a few minutes came out again. Then +she walked into the lecture-room, where some example or other had been +left chalked up on the big blackboard from the last lesson. Thence she +went into the typewriting-room, and back to the lecture-room again. +Finally she got from the "library"--the little back room where the +files and presses and gelatine copiers and a few books were kept--a +number of old examination papers, and, finding a chair near the +folding door that divided the lecture-room from the general-room, sat +down and began to turn them over. + +But she thought more of the conversation she had just overheard than +she did of the examination papers. It had meant, as far as she had +been able to make it out, that Mr. Jeffries had told young Merridew +that he was engaged, or hoped to be engaged, to somebody outside the +school altogether. That sounded--odd. Of course if Mr. Jeffries said +so, Mr. Jeffries ought to know; but it is a difficult matter to +disbelieve your own eyes. She supposed she had no choice but to +disbelieve them, but--but--there _were_ those two glances he had given +at the Polly Ross girl--whom, by the way, she must learn to call by +her proper name, Miss Evie Soames. + +Louie was perfectly certain that she had not been mistaken in the +nature of those two glances. Her reason for certitude was quite +unassailable. She had known what they meant for the simple reason that +she had never received such looks from a man herself. + +Suddenly she dropped this mask of fevered amusement entirely. As she +had once sat on the stile between Rainham Parva and the sea, so Louie +now sat by the folding door--relaxed, thinking of nothing, or, if of +anything, certainly neither of her late resolute pose nor yet of +study. Her mind was what she had determined it should not be if she +could help it--an empty chamber for unknown devils to enter. + +Students passed and repassed. Weston had been through several times, +and twice Evie Soames had come and gone again. This so-much-talked-of +Mr. Jeffries went into the library for a book and walked past with it +again. He still wore that concealing ulster; the Soames girl had on a +brown tailor-made and a cap of knitted white wool. Louie was hardly +conscious that she noticed these things. She still sat, all slack and +unbraced, with the examination papers on her knee. + +All at once she came to herself. Why she should do so at that +particular moment she did not know, but, doing so, she found herself +completely awake again. To all intents and purposes she had come out +of one of those naps which, lasting perhaps only a minute, have all +the effect of a refreshing sleep. She could reassume her mask now. +Evie Soames was talking to Weston by the blackboard; opposite her, a +pale student called Richardson was copying down an exercise from a +sheet on the wall; and she supposed Mr. Jeffries would be bringing his +book back presently. Louie was as alive to her surroundings now as she +had been oblivious to them a few moments before. + +A minute later Mr. Jeffries, returning with his book, passed into the +library. A few seconds later still Evie Soames had left Mr. Weston and +had followed him. + +"Now," thought Louie, "for a little more amusement." + +The library had only one communicating door; its other door led only +to a small room called the old ledger-room, a dusty cubby-hole, seldom +entered, that had no outlet save the small pivoted window, high up, +that gave on the head of the stairs. Mr. Jeffries and Miss Soames +would have to come out by the same way they had entered, and Louie +rather wanted to see them come out. It was no business of hers, but +she had remembered those two glances and the conversation between +Kitty Windus and Miriam Levey, and she had a perfect right to sit by +the folding door and to use her eyes if she wished. She was now almost +preternaturally awake. No jot of the jest, whatever it was, should +escape her. + +Evie came out first, after four or five minutes; but Louie was not +interested in Evie. She was merely a dull tale: Louie wanted to see +him. + +Then, a moment later, he came. + +But no amusement came with him. Instead, Louie knew not what sudden +private ache stirred deep at her own heart. It was not a question of +those two furtive, possessive glances now. Unmistakable enough those +had been; you do not mistake the kind of glance for which you yourself +have hungered when you see it given to another; but not only had Louie +never seen--she had never, not even in her own rapt dreamings as a +half-grown girl in her teens, thought it possible that a man's look at +a woman could change his face as this man's face was changed now. It +was irradiated, transfigured. He took no pains now to hide it. He +could see clear down the room before him--could see (or so he +evidently thought) any who saw him---- + +And since he did not see Louie by the folding door, Louie knew that in +his former passings and repassings he could not have seen her either. + +He disappeared. The Soames girl was waiting by the door, evidently for +him. No doubt he was going to see her home. Probably she would have +preferred the other, the little cad with the red waistcoat, but she +had the lion---- + +He returned, with his hat on, and they left together. + +But what had brought that sudden ache into Louie's breast? Mr. +Jeffries was nothing to her. If his face shone, Louie's heart need not +therefore ache. What ailed her? + +Unmasked, as alive to things within herself now as she had just been +to things outside herself, she sat, deeply wondering. + +Against the wall at her left hand there stood a tall stationery +cupboard. It had glazed doors, and the pale student called Richardson, +coming up a moment ago to put his exercise-book back into its place, +had left one of the doors open. The door moved on its hinges back into +its place. With its motion there swung slowly into Louie's view the +reflection of the grimy chandelier with its three naked gas-jets. + +Was it this that reminded her of the night when she had swept out of +Mrs. Lovenant-Smith's French window with the yellow-shaded standard +lamp mirrored in its pane? + +It had been on that night---- + +Suddenly her eyes closed, as if closed eyes could have shut out a +mental picture. Her lips trembled--voicelessly they shaped a name. + +It was the name of Roy. + + * * * * * + +Hitherto she had hardly known what her feelings towards Roy really +were. It had been in order to avoid asking herself that question, +among others, that she had amused herself with Kitty Windus and +welcomed the buffooneries of Mr. Mackie. But it presented itself to +her startlingly now. Her own complete ignorance had just revealed a +shining thing to her, the beautiful thing that had transformed Mr. +Jeffries' face; now--handy-dandy--that very transformation threw her +brutally back on her ignorance again. + +She had thought she had sounded a mystery; had she, after all, _not_ +sounded any mystery, and was she to pay in labour and pain for +nothing? + +Her thoughts had flown back; they remained where they had flown. Good +gracious! What an escapade! Without mercy for herself she examined it. +What had really happened? Anything worth what it was about to cost? + +The radiant look of another man at another woman answered her: No. + +She had courted him--what a conquest! She had made him say she was +pretty--what a victory! She had schemed, planned, ensured her +kisses--what a triumph!... Why, she now asked herself for the first +time, had she wanted to triumph? Why had she not seen sooner that what +she had really wanted had been to be triumphed over? Triumph?--It came +to her with a strange newness that women didn't triumph by triumphing. +That man with the back like the church door, for example, who had just +gone out with that pretty snippet---- + +Instantly, and with extraordinary resilience, her mind established a +contrast. + +No woman would have to cajole this shabby, lion-eyed man into +admiration of her beauty. Rather she would have to save herself from +his onslaught--and then, in her very flying, she would triumph. Louie +had found a fool invincible; but this other, when he loved, would go +down with the vehemence of his own assault. When Louie had refused to +kiss Roy at their parting she had not known exactly why she had done +so: she had obeyed an instinct; a chapter had been closed, and had +had to be marked as definitely closed; her heart had known no rancour +against him. But now!--she might just as well have kissed him. Now, in +this strange place, two strange people--or rather one, for the girl +mattered nothing--had in a moment, and infinitely, enlarged her sense +of what, at any rate to a man, love might mean. In the light of that +enlargement any kiss she could have given to Roy would have meant +nothing--nothing, nothing. Poor Roy, whom she had had to woo! This +other would do his own wooing. Why, he was doing it now---- + +Then a startling recollection caused Louie to sit suddenly upright. +This lion, who had given those looks at that girl--this shabby giant, +whose face she had just seen enheavened out of all knowledge--had told +young Merridew, who had told Kitty Windus and Miriam Levey, that his +heart was set on somebody outside this poky little Business School +altogether! + +Involuntarily Louie drew a long breath of amazement. + +He had told them that! + +Then Louie became matter-of-fact. There was one thing and one thing +only to be said. If Mr. Jeffries had told him that, Mr. Jeffries +had--lied. + +She turned it over again--she found no flaw in it. + +Yes, if he had said that, he had lied. + +Louie pondered. The result of her pondering was that she said slowly +to herself: "Ah--this is going to be more than amusing--unless I'm +mistaken it might even become dramatic." + +Up to the moment of this astonishing discovery--for Louie knew that +she had made a discovery--Mr. Jeffries had been to her a phenomenon, +different from Mr. Mackie and Kitty Windus, but not to be observed +very differently; now in a twink she placed him in quite another +category. Or, if she still lacked a category in which to place him, +she certainly removed him for ever from the other. He had called +suddenly on her profounder attention, and, as if he had struck upon a +rock, the waters of it gushed forth. Apparently to others he was a +butt, a jest, a pathetic figure; he was not that to Louie Causton now. +They had said, Kitty and the Jewess, that Evie Soames and the +red-waistcoated boy, off to Guildford together to-morrow, would before +long be engaged to be married; but Mr. Jeffries, the third person in +the commonest of dramas, and Mr. Jeffries, the introducer into that +drama of a preposterous, impossible fourth actor, whose name Miriam +Levey was resolved to know, were not one and the same man. Louie sat +astounded again at his lie. It struck her as really in its way +stupendous. Others thought he was below his fellows in this shabby +little hutch of a Business School; not so Louie now! She saw those +clear yellow eyes again. Ruses and machinations lived in them. A butt, +with his brown-paper parcel? A pathetic figure, with his cadged baths? +No--good gracious, no! The faces of butts and pathetic figures were +rather less capable of irradiation. This man's kind made great +somethings--great men, great saints, great lovers--if it came to the +worst great criminals. Had she, Louie, been that jaunty young man in +the red waistcoat, she would have chosen for a rival and enemy anybody +she had ever seen rather than this needy, gigantic Mr. Jeffries, who +made this barefaced attempt to throw dust into people's eyes by means +of apocryphal women he was "after" elsewhere. + +And he helped this youngster he must hate with his studies--cadged on +his probably-to-be-successful rival for a bath. + +He was masked too, then. + +Yes, at this dingy School in Holborn Louie had found something even +more interesting than amusement. + + +IV + + +Sec._a_ + +Louie had not yet allowed herself much time for fear of what was to +happen to herself physically; she had amused herself too heartily. She +bought chocolates and hated the smell of tobacco; and so far that was +all. What hung over her was as inevitable as Death, and for that +reason was, like Death, to be kept at arm's-length as long as +possible. + +But she had already seen enough of Richenda's sister to be aware that +in all probability her stay in Sutherland Place would not be a long +one. Mrs. Leggat was formally kind, to Lord Moone's niece rather than +to herself; but for the rest an armed neutrality seemed to exist +between the two women. The Leggats were childless, and for that reason +the less likely to be charitable. Louie had, in fact, found the social +layer that is bounded on the one hand by the wickedness of pugilists +and on the other by the scapes of young gentlemen about to enter the +army. Within these limits Virtue reigned--not always harshly, always +consciously. Not the wives of the Caesars (it seemed to Louie) were +above suspicion, but the Mrs. Leggats; not the saints, who confessed +that they were tempted, but the Westons, who did not know of +temptation's existence. It was as if some unseen, august Mrs. +Lovenant-Smith had decreed that landladies and teachers in business +schools did not do these things. And they did not. + +Louie went to the house of Richenda's father, the bookseller--once. +She had no wish to go again. As Richenda had described him there had +been something tragic about him; to Louie he had appeared merely as a +grey-bearded, rheumatic, complaining old man, a picture of pathos +without dignity. And those six other Richendas, of various ages, +struck her as horribly superfluous. She wanted Life's colour, not its +greyness; she greatly preferred the garnish, incredible Mackie. + +The weeks passed. Weston came regularly on Sunday mornings, and on +Sunday afternoons she took long walks. On the nights when there was no +class she rode on buses, along Oxford Street, down Regent Street to +the Circus, and back by Park Lane to the Marble Arch and Notting Hill +Gate again; or sometimes she went Paddington way, up the Harrow Road +and out and back through Kilburn. She began to know something of the +streets of London. Her health was far better in London than it had +been at Rainham Parva. It was perfect. She still feared nothing. + + * * * * * + +The Christmas Examinations drew within sight, and hand in hand with +the preparation for them another and a more lightsome preoccupation +engaged the School. This was the Christmas Social with which the last +term of the year always closed. An Executive had been formed; on it +Louie's name appeared; and it met frequently at the close of afternoon +school. One of the younger students was sent across to the teashop +over the way for scones and cake; a kettle was set on the +general-room fire; and the social was discussed over tea. + +Mr. Mackie was the life and soul of these meetings. He was especially +strong on the subject of whether evening-dress was to be obligatory, +permissible or debarred. He declared himself at one of the earlier +meetings as out and out for fancy dress, but was outvoted. + +"See me as a Woodbine, girls, beg pardon, miss-cue, a Columbine, I +mean, nearly cold with the kilt, kilt with the cold, I should say, +sixpence in the box for the opera-glasses, Gerald, but don't ogle me +while mother's in the wings, wishing she was twenty-one again--good +old mother-- + + "'Here's to the happiest hours of my life, + Spent in the arms of another man's wife-- + My Mo-the-rr!'" + +(The shake on the long note produced by a rapid play of Mr. Mackie's +fingers on Mr. Mackie's Adam's apple.) "Thought I'd have to backpedal, +didn't you, Miss Causton? Nay, fear not, fair damsel, the intentions +of Ferdinando are honourable, as long as you watch him, pip-pip, +phee-ooo!" (The shrill whistle behind the handkerchief closed the +strophe.) + +But this was rushing matters. Kitty Windus spoke, no doubt on behalf +of the students who hadn't a pound a week on their own. + +"Fancy dress would keep a good many away," she said. "I should love +it, but it really is an expense, you know." + +"Weston can buy a penny bottle of gum and come as a foreign stamp." + +"Do be serious, Mr. Mackie, now! We want the social to be for +everybody here----" + +"_And_ their friends," Miss Levey interpolated, with a look of private +understanding at Kitty Windus. There was a short interlude between the +two women. + +"You _won't_ find out, Miriam!" + +"I _vill_!" + +"Did you offer him tickets for the Holborn?" + +"Yes; but he vouldn't buy them." + +"Doesn't Mrs. J. as-is-to-be dance?" + +"I don't know. He vouldn't buy the tickets." + +"I'll bet you another half-crown you don't get him there, let alone +her!" + +"Done vith you, Kitty Vindus!" cried Miss Levey excitedly. + +Here Mr. Mackie interposed. "Who's that? Jeffries? He can come in his +ulster as Boaz--_heu_, how Ruthless! (Beshrew me, but have I not a +pretty wit?)" + +"He's got that new brown suit to come in--or did he get it +second-hand, Archie?" asked Kitty. + +"New," quoth Archie authoritatively. "Allworthy's, in Cheapside. Two +ten." + +"I nearly died when he turned up without that old ulster!" + +"Vasn't it screaming?" simpered Miss Levey. "No, don't, Archie!" +(Young Merridew was pulling out the frill of her jabot.) + +"Do tell us exactly what he said when you congratulated him on his +engagement, Evie!" said Kitty Windus, turning to Evie Soames. + +The girl coloured a little. In common fairness Louie had to acquit her +of full participation in the joke of Mr. Jeffries and his unknown +_fiancee_. Louie had learned that it had been in order to congratulate +Mr. Jeffries on this supposed engagement that she had followed Mr. +Jeffries into the library on that Friday evening before her departure +for the week-end to Guildford. She thought little more of her on that +account. In being too ready with apologies and congratulations Evie +Soames merely showed the vulgarity of the rest of the place. + +"No, do let's get on with business," Kitty Windus broke in. "I vote +for ordinary dress." + +"Yes, ordinary dress," came the chorus. + +"Vith vite gloves, of course," said Miss Levey. + +"Of course." + +"Vot do you say, Miss Causton?" + +"White gloves, of course," said Louie, with her demurest look. "And +flowers in their buttonholes." + +"Some gentlemen don't like to vear flowers," said Miriam Levey +suspiciously. + +"Aha, doesn't he?" from Mr. Mackie. "_I_ saw you at the Holborn, Miss +Levey--naughty, naughty----" + +"Oh, I don't mean very big ones," said Louie, sipping her tea. + +And the discussion went on, and meeting followed meeting; but the +examination was to take place before the social. + +The only fear Louie had for her Elementary was whether it would be +worth very much when she had got it. She supposed that as an earnest +preparation for the struggle of life this place was not quite such a +fraud as Chesson's, but that struggle could hardly be as fierce as +Richenda Earle had said if this Elementary took her very far. Indeed +she had wondered more than once lately, especially since she had +ceased to amuse herself quite so desperately, whether it was likely +that typewriting and book-keeping were to be her destiny after all. +She supposed they were, but she couldn't quite realise it. But she was +fully prepared, and hoped Mr. Jeffries was as sure of his Honours +paper as she was of her simple Pass. + +For she had gathered that success in the coming examination was of +importance to Mr. Jeffries. She did not know the nature of his +studies; later she surmised that those had been only loosely linked to +the ordinary school curriculum, and that while for his Certificate's +sake he must acquire all that text-books could tell him, his real +broodings had been over matters that are antecedent to text-books. +That was probably the difference between him and Mr. Weston. Mr. +Weston was said to be clever, but his cleverness ended at the point +where real inquiry began. More than this Louie did not know. You +cannot, after all, ask the pioneer what he goes forth for to see. He +goes forth to see whatever there may be to be seen. + +The weeks that had intervened since that evening when Louie had seen +that wonderful radiance of his face had done nothing to alter her +conviction that if there was a dark horse in that Holborn stable at +all the name of that horse was Mr. Jeffries. + +As it happened, Mr. Jeffries was almost the first person she +encountered when, on the Friday morning of the examination, she +entered the School at half-past ten. He wore the new brown suit that +had been remarked on at the meetings of the Executive of the social, +and he was looking with curiosity about him. They had made quite +extensive preparations for the examination. The whole place had been +divided into compartments with hired yellow-painted screens, and +screens also barricaded the =E= of reference-books near the bay +window of the general-room. New pens and new blotting-paper lay on +the desks, and the little porcelain inkwells had been newly filled. +Then it occurred to Louie that it was more than likely that Mr. +Jeffries had never been in the place in the daytime before. He must +have got the day off from that "somewhere in the City" that Kitty +Windus had said sounded so prosperous. His tawny hair was as flat and +silky as ever, and his chin as cleanly shaved. He passed her with a +curt bow and continued his inspection of the place. The candidates +stood talking in groups, waiting for eleven o'clock. + +"Have you discovered your--er--appointed place, Miss Causton?" said +Weston, coming up to Louie. "Good, good! I must now take my departure. +Members of the Staff are not permitted to remain on the premises +during the hours devoted to the examination. I wish you--er--good +luck." + +He seemed to change his mind about saying "a happy issue from all your +afflictions." + +By eleven o'clock Louie was seated in her little screen-enclosed +compartment. A sort of hired mourner read a formal caution to the +candidates. She noticed that it lacked the _largior ether_ of the +third person indicative, being, indeed, in the second person +imperative; and then she drew her paper to her. + +Quiet fell on the examination-rooms. + +She found her papers no more difficult than she had anticipated. On +one point only, a matter of indenting in actual practice, was she a +little in doubt, and a minute in the old ledger-room at lunch-time +would tell her whether her answer had been right or wrong. She read +over again what she had written; it seemed, with the possible +exception of that single point, all right; and she tilted her chair, +put her hands behind her head, and leaned back. The candidates had +been warned that they must bring lunch with them. It was half-an-hour +from lunch-time yet. + +Her place was by the folding door of the general-room. From it she +could see nothing save the stationery cupboard on her left, and, +beyond it, the next screen-enclosed compartment. She was wondering who +was in it when a foot moved beneath the yellow screen. It was the foot +of Mr. Jeffries. Louie hoped that he was getting on well, and then +dismissed him from her thoughts. She began to wonder about the +practical usefulness of the examination again. + +Doubtless it was well enough in its way, but less than ever could she +persuade herself that this kind of thing was to be her destiny. There +were too many other likelihoods--not to speak of the one certainly so +huge that she had sometimes been actually in danger of leaving it out +of the account altogether. Idly she counted them. First, there was the +certainty.... Next, she would probably be leaving Sutherland Place +soon, to go--where? She did not know. At the price of submission to +Uncle Augustus she could go back home; or Chaff would have her looked +after; but both these courses were rather out of the question. They +were out of the question because lately something else had been more +and more in her thoughts--her unknown father. That father might, for +all she knew, be the bugbear her mother had always made him out to be; +but on the other hand he might not. She knew her mother, and the more +she thought of it the more she gave her father the benefit of an +increasing number of doubts. Until she should have seen him it was now +no more than fair that she should do so. Moreover, she could see him +at any time without his being any the wiser of the--inspection. Chaff +knew where he was; Chaff, who was always fetching or taking her +somewhere, would take her there also. She was resolved to go sooner or +later, and later might be--who knew?--too late. + +For at last she had admitted a dread. + +In any case, her destiny was quite as likely to be determined by a +visit to that public-house up the Thames as by writing, in this stuffy +Holborn third floor, answers to ridiculous questions about _pro forma_ +invoices and bills of lading. + +She was still turning these things over in her mind when the bell rang +for the close of the first part of the examination. + +She ate her lunch in the company of Kitty Windus and Miss Levey, and +then the three women passed out on to the staircase and sat down +half-way down the stairs. But the men had flocked to the staircase for +their noxious smoking, and Louie re-entered the general-room again. +Then she remembered the doubtful point in her paper and walked to the +library. She passed through it into the old ledger-room. Any old +ledger would settle the point on which she was not quite sure. + +The room was almost dark, but Louie knew where the musty old books +were. She put out her hand to the nearest of them. But suddenly she +withdrew her hand. The high window that gave on the head of the stairs +afforded no more than a glimmer of light, but Louie thought she had +seen something move. She peered into the twilight, "Is anybody there?" +she said, but she had no answer. + +But the room was occupied. The next moment she had seen and fled. + +Her irregular lips were pursed as she came out into the light again. +There was a confusion, too, in her eyes, probably as much as there had +been in the eyes of the two she had come upon in there. They must have +seen her come in, and have realised that their only chance of escaping +detection lay in keeping perfectly still. + +Polly Ross, cheek to cheek with that horrid little bounder! + +There was no question now of whom the girl preferred. + +Louie, wondering what right she had to do so, felt nevertheless a +little sick. + +But the next moment her fastidiousness had vanished. The door that led +to the stairs had opened; Mr. Mackie's voice sounded loud for a moment +on the landing; and then Mr. Jeffries lurched in, stumbled, and almost +ran to his compartment between the yellow screens. + +How he too knew what was going on in the old ledger-room, Louie could +not guess; but she knew that he did know. + +She walked slowly to her own place and sat down. + +A few minutes later the bell for the second half of the examination +rang, and a new paper was put before Louie. But she neither glanced at +it nor yet heard the voice of the hired mourner repeating his caution. +She sat with her chin in her hands, looking straight before her. She +was wondering what was taking place behind the yellow screen beyond +the stationery cupboard. Amusement was hardly the word for that. + +For she had seen Mr. Jeffries' face as he had stumbled in. She +sought words for the expression that had been upon it. +Lost--despairing--devilish---- + +There was not much doubt about who _he_ was in love with either. + +Devilish, despairing, lost---- + +"Poor--soul!" she thought compassionately.... + +She wondered why she should be so unaccountably nervous. She was +nervous. She even jumped a little when somebody on the other side of +the folding door allowed a pen to fall to the floor. She could see the +feet beneath the lower edge of the screen in front of her; they did +not move; the examination quietness had fallen on the place again, and +the very quietness grew on her. Strong drama, if not tragedy outright, +was being enacted behind those half-inch yellow boards beyond the +stationery cupboard, but the quietness continued. It was such a +quietness as she had read of in tales when, somebody's ears being +sharpened for an expected scream, their eyes had not at first noticed +the little dark rivulet of blood trickling slowly across the floor. +Involuntarily her eyes went to the yellow screen. + +But rubbish; this was morbid. + +Morbid or not, however, her lips almost shaped the words, slowly and +deliberately: that boy with the red waistcoat would do well to be +careful. He would do especially well to be careful if, after this, +after the glare on the other's face, he should still have help offered +him with his studies or be asked for a bath. For something would +happen then. Eggshells such as he did not come into collision with +bronze without something happening. And if anything not easily to be +accounted for did happen to that odious little whippersnapper, nothing +would ever persuade Louie that she did not know a likely quarter in +which to look for the reason. + +Blind, devilish despair! + +And all for an empty-headed little thing who could have been found in +her dozens behind twenty shop counters not a quarter of a mile away! +What on earth, what on, or under, or above the earth, could this +brooding, clever, gigantic, laughed-at creature want with such a doll? +Why could he not leave her in her proper place--cheek by cheek with +the little bounder of her choice in that smelly, unlighted old +ledger-room? The man must be blind, or a fool. + +Then a sort of lethargy took Louie. Suddenly she cared for nothing. +Let the fancy-stationer's cub take his risks; let the other eat his +heart out if he would; it was no business of hers. Nor was that absurd +table of questions before her any business of hers. Kitty Windus might +answer that sort of thing; Mackie might answer it; but the +Scarisbricks were not Kittys, with her "part-independency," not +Mackies, to stuff their heads and ink their fingers like this for +their "permanencies." She did not know now why she had ever come to +the place, and she wanted no more of it. What she was going to do she +did not know. She did know, however, that she was not going to answer +that silly paper. + +So, by-and-by, she allowed the paper to be collected again, as blank +as when it had been placed before her. + +She came upon the perverse Mr. Jeffries once more before she left. He +almost ran her down bodily as they met in the doorway of the +typewriting-room. But this time she did not look at his face. With a +swift intaking of her breath she fell back to save herself. She did +not hear whether he apologised or not; in one moment, without +premeditation, her whole being had become constrained to a new, +protective, instinctive attitude. + +Slowly and thoughtfully she left the School. + +She alone of the students was unsurprised to hear, four or five days +later, that Mr. Jeffries, who had passed with distinction in the first +part of his paper, had, like herself, failed in the second part. + + +Sec._b_ + +For the examination the rooms had been cut up with screens; for the +breaking-up social they were cleared of everything that could be +stowed away into dark corners. Never was such a hoisting and calling +as those with which the hired piano was got up the three flights of +stairs. Most of it came from Mr. Mackie, turned for the nonce into a +shabash-wallah. + +"Mind her funnybone--all together--up with her! Oh, pursue me, +wenches, I've got my muscle up, first time since the second housemaid +ran away with the dustman! Don't tickle her parson's nose, Archi-bald, +or she'll sneeze when I sing, key in the usual place--and mind the +stair above the top, it isn't there. This way--excuse my +shirt-sleeves, Miss Windus, I'm in mourning." + +And so the piano was trundled to its place in the corner by the big +blackboard. + +Mr. Mackie was of service, too, in the French-chalking of the floor, +for the men hauled him about by the arms and legs on a piece of +sacking in order to give it its final polish for dancing. Half the +students, male and female, helped to wind the blackened old brackets +and chandeliers with red and green tissue paper, to set evergreens on +the tops of the cupboards, and to affix the trophies of little +Christmas tree flags on the cabbagey old walls; and Louie helped with +the refreshments. Three women had been got in, one to make coffee and +the others to preside in the cloakrooms, and Miss Levey had won +half-a-crown from Kitty Windus. + +For Mr. Jeffries was coming to the party after all. More, it had been +Louie herself who had asked him, though it had been Miss Levey's +cunning that had made her do so. On no grounds at all save that it +appeared to annoy, the Jewess had once or twice twitted Louie that Mr. +Jeffries favoured _her_ and, when Mr. Jeffries had declined her own +invitation, had nudged Louie. "_You_ ask him, and see whether he +doesn't come!" the nudge had meant. Louie entered into no contest with +Miss Levey. She had turned at once to Mr. Jeffries and repeated the +invitation. He had accepted it. + +Louie doubted her own wisdom in going to that social at all. Even when +she had reached Sutherland Place and spread out her frocks on her bed +she still doubted. But suddenly she gave a short laugh. Of course she +was going! It was her first "social," and it might be her last; she +was going, and she was going to wear the oyster-grey satin that, ever +since she had had it, had always seemed to "live" so on her shoulders. + +She declined Mrs. Leggat's help in getting into it; if Mrs. Leggat +would be so good as to get her a hansom instead----Mrs. Leggat went +out. The oyster-grey was one of the oldest of her frocks; Louie knew +every stitch of it; and she smiled as she thought that for that very +reason she would have chosen it had she deliberately intended to make +a conquest. She surveyed herself in it in the tilted glass. Yes, she +thought she would do. + +"It's your last time on, poor old rag," she muttered. + +She heard the pulling up of the hansom; she put on a light shawl and +descended; and Mrs. Leggat lingered in the doorway as she drove off. + +They had set candles on the floors of the landings of the Holborn +stairs, but they guttered in the draughts, and showed little but the +feet of those who ascended. Louie followed a pair of orange +silk-stockinged ankles and a trammel of orange petticoats (she didn't +know whose) up the stairs, and entered the general-room. The library +had been converted into a ladies' cloakroom, with the old ledger-room +as an annexe; and in this last room Evie Soames, with an elaborate +running of pink ribbons beneath the openwork of her cream net blouse, +was putting on her slippers. She only showed Louie the top of her dark +head; in this and other ways she had displayed reserve since the lunch +interval of the examination day. A woman with a pair of very chapped +hands and a very clean apron took Louie's shawl; and Louie, first +glancing at her hair over the powdered shoulders of the person in +orange, went into the double room that had been prepared for dancing. + +Students and their friends had turned up in their best bibs and +tuckers. Most of the men wore swallow-tailed coats; one of the +exceptions was Mr. Jeffries in his brown jacket-suit. He was talking +to Miss Levey, or rather Miss Levey was gasping to him; she had just +given him, or rather hung upon his wrist, one of the violet-written +cards, printed from the gelatine-copier, which served as programmes. +Weston wore a tightly fitting old frock-coat, which Mr. Mackie +humorously likened to the overcoat of sausage that had spent the night +in the coal-hole. Archie Merridew had a white waistcoat. All the men +stroked the wrinkles out of their white gloves without ceasing. The +women, to the reflective eye, had lost little by the foregoing of +out-and-out evening-dress. There was an "I could an' if I would" about +their long sleeves and high necks. Kitty Windus, in her blue foulard, +with a cutlet-frill about her thin neck, graciously consented to the +level of those who had not a pound a week on their own; Miriam Levey, +in a maroon pinafore-frock with broad braces over her shoulders, +instantly put every simple blouse in the room at its ease. One frock +only flouted the modest agreement to which the executive had come; +this was the orange satin one which Louie had followed upstairs. It +partially clothed a friend of Mr. Mackie's. Louie heard the words in +which Mr. Mackie introduced young Merridew to its wearer. + +"Mr. Merridew, Miss Dulcie Levine, Miss Levine, Mr. Merridew, two of +the best, seasonable weather for the time of the year, ain't it, what? +Permit me, Dulcibella, a bit of fluff" (here Mr. Mackie cast aside the +bit of fluff, if there was one, which he had taken from Miss Dulcie's +shoulder, and represented the noise of its falling by a loud stamp on +the floor). "Ought to be dancing soon; what time is it by your clocks, +Dulcie? _I_ saw them as you got out of the Black Maria, the cab, I +mean--_heu_, desist, Mr. Mackie, you wag!" (Mr. Mackie smacked his own +wrist in reproof of himself.) "Why am I not in me usual spirits, gin +cold, to-night, Dulcinea? 'Tis thy fatal beauty has undone me; what +ho, a needle and threat, O fairest of thy socks, sex I should say.... +Ay, she dances, Archibald, but not with thee, base varlet; she dances +at the Theatre hight Alcazar, nigh unto ye Square called Leicester." + +Louie heard Kitty Windus whisper to Evie Soames that Mr. Mackie was +going to be splendid to-night; but her approval did not extend to Mr. +Mackie's friend, who was already too splendid. Kitty's head was held +so high when Miss Levine passed that she appeared to be looking at her +with her nostrils. With her eyes she saw only the orange creature's +back. This was a rather handsome =V=, and that did not improve +matters. Kitty whispered behind her fan about "some people." Miss +Dulcie used Kitty as a quizzing-glass for the inspection of whoever +happened to be behind her. + +Mr. Jeffries stood with his back against the thrown-back folding door. +He did not dance, but he had not at all the air of a wet blanket; on +the contrary, his face wore a quite lively smile. He was smiling at +the red and green tissue paper that enswathed the central chandelier. +Louie saw Evie Soames pass him; his eyes rested on her for a moment, +but only as they rested on everybody else, and then went back to the +red and green tissue paper of the chandelier again. He had accepted +the inevitable, then. Indeed, had he not done so, Louie could hardly +imagine that he would have been there. Well, it was the most sensible +thing he could do. Louie would go and speak to him presently. + +Louie made a tour of the rooms. The =E= of reference-books had +been turned into a place for sitting out, and in the typewriting-room +the lids of two or three desks had been wedged up to form card-tables. +Into the room beyond, which was the smoking-room, she did not +penetrate. Already a fiddle was tuning up, but Louie had told young +Merridew, who had magnanimously asked her for her card, that she did +not intend to dance. None the less he had taken her card and scrawled +something on it. She had tossed the piece of violet-written pasteboard +into a corner. + +At nine o'clock there was a tapping on the top of the piano, and the +music began. Mr. Mackie and the lady in orange glided out over the +French-chalked floor. Two minutes later the room was full of waltzing +couples. + +Louie had sat down on the opposite side of the room to Mr. Jeffries. +Through momentarily clear spaces she saw him from time to time. He did +not move from his station by the folding door, where, among the +hoppers and caperers who sped past him, he seemed to have something of +the stability of a monument in some centre of apparently aimless +traffic. Still, he seemed to be enjoying himself, and Louie intended +to go across to him when the waltz was over. + +A word she overheard, however, caused her to change her mind and to +rise to her feet at once. Mr. Mackie, passing with his orange partner, +had repeated his jape about the Ruthless Boaz. + +Without more ado Louie threaded her way through the dancers and stood +before Mr. Jeffries. + +"Won't you try to dance?" she said. + +As he turned the amber eyes on her she had the feeling that she slid +all at once into the field of some piece of apparatus with an +object-glass. She was the object. For a moment he forgot his smile; he +looked attentively at her; and then the smile returned. He answered in +an easy, deep voice, the accent of which was neither Cockney nor yet +quite of the mode of the men Louie knew. + +"Oh, I--I don't dance," he said. + +"Won't you let me teach you?" + +His eyes were still on hers. He seemed to give the simple question +weighty consideration. Then his eyes dropped to his hands. + +"Hallo," he said, as if to himself. His programme was where Miss Levey +had put it, dangling from his wrist as if from a hook. Apparently he +had not noticed it before. Then, looking at Louie again, he said: "I +mean, my gloves--I've no gloves." + +"Gloves!" she said quietly. "Come." + +She took the absurd programme from his wrist, threw it away, and put +her gloved hand into his naked one. + +She drew Mr. Jeffries into the current. + +Louie had danced with ignoramuses before, but never with a man quite +so awkward as this. She did her best to steer him, but before they had +gone half-way round the room they had collided with Evie Soames, +leaning back in the crook of young Merridew's arm--with Kitty Windus, +tiptoe and leaning forward over her partner--with Mr. Mackie, who had +lighted a cigarette and was singing the refrain of the dance as he +passed. Then Mr. Jeffries begged her, out of consideration for +herself, to stop. But she had no desire to stop. She wondered why, +bumped and trampled so, she should want to go on, but she gave that +riddle up. He did not cease to apologise for his ungainliness. + +But the riddle of why she did not wish to stop refused to be given up. +It renewed itself with each of his apologies. Stumbling ludicrously, +she knew that she still wished to go on. What she did not know at +that time of her life was that she had secrets that hitherto she had +kept even from herself. + +Then, all in a moment, the strange thing happened. She felt that +colour, that stress and anger never brought there, rise slow and warm +into her cheeks. Her glance had merely rested for a moment on that +hand of hers that lay slender as a willow leaf in his, but the riddle +was a puzzle no longer. Abashed, she _had_ surprised a secret. + +She had caught herself wishing--half wishing--she did not quite know +what--that she too had taken off her glove. + +Her colour lasted for half-a-minute; then, perhaps because of the +colour, her voice became matter-of-fact. She glanced up at him. + +"I'm sorry you failed in your examination," she said. + +Louie was tall, but his head was clear and away above hers. He looked +down, earnest, anxious, smiling, all three. + +"It doesn't matter," he said. "Why should it?" he added. + +Louie had thought that it had mattered a great deal, but she was still +a little bewildered. Even out of the answer to the riddle another +seemed to have sprung already. She laughed a little. + +"Oh--only that one doesn't like to be beaten," she said. + +This too he seemed to give profound yet (if such a thing may be) +absentminded attention. + +"Is anybody ever beaten?" he asked slowly. "I mean, unless they +deserve to be?" + +Archie and Evie Soames had just overtaken them again, laughing +together, as, hand in hand, they took a running glide towards the +door. His remark came oddly from a doubly beaten man. What then did he +call a beating?... She looked covertly at the two hands again. + +"But--mayn't circumstances be too strong for you?" + +This again he considered. "Circumstances are strong," he admitted. +"But then, if one's a fool, so are a good many other people. There's +always that chance, you see." + +He spoke as gently as if he had been speaking to a child, but Louie +suddenly found herself wondering whether he had accepted the +inevitable after all. This hardly sounded like it. She spoke quietly. + +"Nobody thinks you're a fool just because you failed--at least I +don't." + +"Failed?" he repeated, as if puzzled.... "Oh, you mean the +examination! Of course I ought never to have gone in for it. (Oh dear, +another bump--I'm afraid you find me hopeless.)" + +"Not have gone in for it? Why?" + +The lion's eyes looked at her in surprise. + +"Why? Why, because I failed." He seemed to consider it an entirely +conclusive answer. + +"But you'll surely try again?" said Louie. + +"Eh? 'Try,' did you say?... Oh, the men who have to try are no good. +For that matter it's always the duffers who try the hardest. I admit +they pull it off, but then things are arranged so that the duffers can +pull them off--have to be, I suppose. But the men who aren't +duffers----" + +He stopped suddenly. + +"What?" she said. + +But once more she had the feeling that she had only just swum into +the field of his vision. It was singularly disconcerting. His smile, +which had disappeared, appeared again. He seemed to remember that he +was at a dance. + +"I suppose you're coming back after Christmas?" he said. + +It was not very likely, but she said: "Very likely. You were saying, +about the men who aren't duffers----" + +Again he got her focus. "Was I? Well, there aren't so many of them +that we need bother about them. So you are coming back?" + +Louie found him extraordinary, unclassifiable. She could not say that +his answers were not ready; they were instant to the point; but +somehow they weren't answers. Of course, they _were_ answers if you +liked, but they seemed in some way to be private communings as well. +She wondered whether he was in the habit of talking much to himself; +he spoke rather as if he was--as if, his consciousness of her presence +notwithstanding, he considered himself to be as good as alone now. + +Louie had heard the expression "second self"--well, this, "second +self" or not, was certainly a curious accord. And then he allowed that +deliberate, altogether discordant smile (that might just as well have +been hooked round his ears like a false beard) to come between, and +asked her if she was coming back after Christmas! + +Then--this came suddenly--she knew for a certainty what hitherto had +hung in doubt--that she would not be coming back after Christmas. She +must sit down. Of course, it was to have been expected. She had been +unwise to dance. + +She spoke faintly. "Please take me to a seat." + +Quite automatically he did so. He led her to the =E= of +reference-books. The waltz closed. So did Louie's eyes. + +"Please leave me alone for a few minutes," she murmured. + +He bowed, and retired as automatically as he had come. + +In a few minutes she felt better, but she still sat in the little +book-lined recess. Her eyes remained closed, but not now altogether +from faintness. She heard Mr. Mackie's voice, apparently a long way +off, shouting, "Come on--let's get the ice broken!" and partners were +being chosen for the Shop-Girl Lancers. More minutes passed. Louie, +her eyes still closed, had begun once more to think of that secret she +had surprised within herself. + +She doubted herself profoundly now. For all she now knew her nature +might contain other such secrets as this that had sent the warm blood +into her cheeks at a touch--nay, at the thought of a touch. She might +have, so to speak, a basic, unsuspected layer of them, needing only to +be stirred to provide surprise after surprise. Those surprises might +make all she had hitherto known--all--seem stupid and flat and +commonplace. If so, why must the discovery come now? Secrets from +herself--now? Impossible! + +But, as if limned on her closed lids, she saw the two hands again, her +own like a lanceolate leaf, lying within that great masculine engine +of his. + +And all at once she felt unutterably lonely. + +It was some time before she opened her eyes again. By that time Mr. +Mackie had succeeded in breaking the ice. The floor shook to the +fourth figure of the Shop-Girl Lancers, and Louie saw, beyond the +reference-books, the Alcazar beauty swung clear off the ground, a +goldfish whirling almost horizontally past. Miss Levey's skirts +followed, their owner crying, "Help, help!"... "_For it ain't the +proper way to treat a la-ady!_" Mr. Mackie's jubilant voice sang--and +when the figure ended there were shouts and clapping of hands and +uproarious cries of "Again, again!" + +By-and-by Louie rose. She walked up the room again. At the piano Mr. +Mackie, who was to sing, was now confidentially humming the air of his +song into the hired pianist's ear. Mr. Jeffries, once more looking as +if he needed a niche and a plinth, was standing in his original place, +by the folding door. Miss Levine and Archie Merridew were half hidden +behind the piano; and Kitty Windus, radiant, was openly flirting with +the pale student called Richardson. Evie Soames had just spoken to Mr. +Jeffries; she was sulking at Archie's desertion of her. Then Mr. +Weston announced, solemnly and distinctly, that Mr. Mackie was about +to add to the enjoyment of all present by singing a song entitled +"That Gorgonzola Cheese." Applause greeted the announcement, and Mr. +Mackie, who had slipped behind the piano for a moment and returned +with his coat on the wrong side out, began. + +Louie found herself once more by the side of Mr. Jeffries. + +"I should like some coffee," she said. + +The coffee was in an adjoining room. For the first time since she had +been at the School Louie did not want to hear Mr. Mackie. + +But the hint was lost on Mr. Jeffries. + +"Eh? Certainly," he said, and went away in search of the coffee. + + "'Oh--that--Gorgonzola Cheese!'" + +Mr. Mackie sang, + + "'It must have been unhealthy, I suppose, + For the old Tom Cat fell dead upon the mat + When the niff got up his nose!'" + +Kitty was laughing almost hysterically. + + "'Talk about the flavour of the crackling of the pork! + I guess it wasn't half so strong + As the delicate effluvia that filled our house + When the Gorgonzola Cheese went wrong!'" + +Mr. Jeffries had returned with Louie's coffee, but Louie barely +touched it. Great stupid fellow! + +Then he turned to her with some merely banal remark, and Louie, giving +it all the answer it deserved, turned and left him. + +That unspeakable loneliness had come upon her again. + +Louie made no further attempt to talk to Mr. Jeffries. She watched +another dance, heard Mr. Weston recite "The Raven," and then went to +the cloakroom for her shawl. There she came upon Kitty Windus, who had +found it necessary to do up her hair again. + +"You surely aren't going?" Kitty exclaimed. She herself was a-tremble +with flirtation and happiness. "Why, you're as bad as Mr. Jeffries! +Though I will admit that even _he_ came out of his shell for once. I +shall begin to think Miriam's right soon!" She gave Louie an arch +look. + +Louie's opinion was that Mr. Jeffries had never been more completely +concealed in his shell than he had been that even, but "Oh, has he +gone?" she said indifferently. + +"Yes, a few minutes ago. Isn't everything going splendidly! Why, Mr. +Mackie's a host in himself!" + +"Quite," said Louie, passing her shawl over her head. + +"I suppose we shall see you in the morning?" said Kitty. "Everybody's +coming to help to clear away." + +"Very well," said Louie. + +And as the piano broke into the prelude to the waltz cotillion she +left. + +But she did not leave that dingy Holborn third floor, never to enter +it again, without a grateful word to Mr. Mackie. She came upon him on +a landing. His trousers were French-chalked almost to the knees with +the vigour of his dancing, and for his next song he had put on a false +nose with blue whiskers attached to it. He was making sure that the +adornment did not interfere with his whistle. + +"Good-bye, Mr. Mackie," said Louie, holding out her hand. + +Mr. Mackie stopped the whistle. "What, you toddling, Miss Causton?" he +said. "Why, we ain't properly warmed up yet!" + +"I must go. And"--she smiled almost fondly at him--"I should like to +thank you." + +Mr. Mackie was quite conscious of desert. "Not at all," he said. "You +mean the 'Gorgonzola Cheese,' I suppose? Went all right, didn't it? +Never known that song fail yet: it always gets 'em----" + +"Oh, for more than that. If you're ever thinking of setting up a cure +I daresay I could find you a few patients. You're wonderful. +Good-bye." + +"Say olive oil, but not good-bye--and Merry Christmas," said Mr. +Mackie. + +But Louie knew that it was good-bye. + + + + +PART III + +MORTLAKE ROAD + + +I + +On a sunny morning in mid-January Louie Causton went to see, but not +necessarily to be seen by, her father. Captain Cecil Chaffinger +accompanied her. As they walked across Richmond Park they talked. + +"You're sure the walk isn't too much for you, Mops?" said the Captain +solicitously. + +She pressed his arm. "No, I'm ever so much better for it." + +"We could get a cart or something at the Star and Garter, you know." + +"I'd much rather walk, Chaff. We can take the train back." + +"All right, little Mops." + +They walked for a few minutes in silence; then-- + +"That woman wasn't--wasn't a beast, was she?" Chaff asked. + +"Mrs. Leggat?" + +"If that's her name. I mean, there was no row?" + +"Not the least in the world." + +The Captain tugged at his moustache. "H'm! Not like you. Ever leave +anywhere without a row before, Mops?" + +Louie laughed a little. "Now you mention it, I don't think I ever +did," she admitted. "But there wasn't a word said. She knew, and I +knew she knew. So I cleared out. That was all. She made me some +beef-tea before I left." + +Again they walked in silence. + +The daintiest of hoar-frosts lay over the Park; on Putney Heath they +had passed skaters. The keen wind had reddened the Captain's nose, and +Louie could not help smiling as he took out his handkerchief for the +twentieth time. She had remembered Mr. Mackie. + +"Ought to have a silk one a day like this," Chaff grunted, blowing +hard. "Makes you perfectly raw.... I say, dear old Mops----" + +"What, old boy?" + +"Anything _I_ could have done, you know----" + +She squeezed his arm again. "I shall be giving you plenty to do +presently. And you say he's not a bad sort." + +"Oh----" said the Captain doubtfully. + +"Well, you'll take me in, and then wait outside till I've seen for +myself." + +But at that Chaff rebelled. "Hanged if I do--dash it all, it's a +public-house! You'll find me in the parlour or whatever it is." + +"How old is he?" + +"Let me see: he'll be fifty. Yes, he'll be fifty. Your mother's +fifty-four." + +"You'll remember your promise, Chaff?" + +"About where you are? Oh, I'll be mum as the grave. Don't you forget +yours." + +"No. You shall come and see me." + +The Captain sighed. His Mops was a strange being. That fool Moone had +taken the wrong way with her, but a better way might have been found +than this. Well, Chaff would have a word or two with Mr. Buck Causton +himself. + +They continued their walk. + +When Louie had first resolved that she would seek her father, nothing +had seemed more natural. In prospect, the thing had been simplicity +itself. But it was, somehow, less simple now. Indeed, its difficulties +had increased with every step she took. What about Buck? Must he +necessarily make her so very welcome? Suppose, when she made her +announcement, he should shake hands, ask how her mother was, offer her +tea (or whatever publicans did offer ladies), say he had been very +glad to see her, and let her go again? How, in the face of that, could +she say: "I am your daughter; I really don't know why I have come; I +have stayed away a good long time, but here I am, needing friends; why +I need friends I will explain to your wife." Was it not likely that +Buck had had more than enough of her family? + +Had Chaff, as they descended to Kingston, once more urged that she was +on a wild-goose chase, as likely as not she would have turned back at +the first word. + +They reached Buck's public-house--The Molyneux Arms, near the corner +of Kingston Bridge. + +"Well," said Chaff, stopping, "what do we do now, Mops?" + +"We go in, I suppose," said Louie. Without pausing, she moved towards the +largest door (there was "Public Bar" written upon it) of an establishment +that, if it lacked the garishness of a modern drinking-palace, was yet +not quite the red-curtained, lattice-windowed, Christmas-number +hostelry of Louie's imaginings. But Chaff, with a "No, not there," +drew her round the corner to a quieter door, where small bay-trees +stood in green tubs. The step had a brightly polished brass sill and a +thick rubber mat perforated with the name "Molyneux Arms." Beyond the +little vestibule were double doors with cut-glass panels and a +diagonal brass bar on each and a piston for automatic closing at the +top. + +"Perhaps you'd better wait here," said Chaff. + +"All right," said Louie, now heartily wishing she had not left her new +abode in Mortlake Road, Putney. + +With a soft sigh of the piston, the brass-barred doors closed behind +Chaff. + +This entrance lay in a short blind alley off the main street, the end +of which seemed to be closed by a stableyard. Somebody over a brick +wall was walking a horse over cobbles, and a man's voice muttered, +"Come up." There was a light clashing of harness, and the same voice +began a soft but strong singing, hoisting itself to the higher notes +as if the interpolated aspirates had been so many stirrups: + + "No re-(_h_)est--but the gra-(_h_)ave + For the pi-(_h_)ilgrim of Love!----" + +Then a back door opened, and a woman's voice was heard. + +"A gentleman to see you, James." + +The song ceased. "A what, Susan?" said the man's voice. "Remember----" + +"A gentleman--in a top hat," said the second voice. + +"You know that travellers sometimes have top hats, Susan," cautioned +the first voice. + +"I'm sure it's a gentleman, James----" + +"Very well, let us hope you're not mistaken and that you were hooked +up behind. Ask the gentleman to wait a minute." + +The voices ceased. + +Instinctively Louie had walked to a half-open coach door and had +looked through. She saw a bright little picture. A horse was being +put into a gay yellow trap, and the man who was buckling the harness +had begun to sing again: + + "Oryn--thia, my Beloved!----" + +All that Louie could see of him was a pair of glossy black boots and a +pair of grey check trousers cut close about the knee. The harness +twinkled; the horse's coat shone in the sun like Mr. Jeffries' hair; +and somebody within the stable was running water into a bucket. Then +the man came round the horse, and she saw him--cropped silver hair, +long dewlapped chin, and a back and shoulders that might have served +Henson's turn yet. And as Louie watched, with no more emotion than if +the scene had been one on a coloured bioscope, he sang again: + + "Oryn--thia, my Beloved!----" + +Then, as she watched, it came over her for the first time that she had +planned and was performing a suspect thing. She had no right to +inspect this man and then to know him or not to know him, as she +chose. He had no less right to inspect her. She, not he, stood to +gain; cards on the table, then; either she must go away at once, +taking Chaff with her, or else take her courage in both hands without +further spying. + +Which was, perhaps, as much as to say that she had already seen and +was willing to risk it. + +She passed through the half-open door into the yard. + +Yet even as she advanced she had a final cowardice. By a man at any +rate, anything would be forgiven her, and she really had had a long +walk.... There was a bench by the stable door.... But she pulled +herself together. No, not that. She was not faint, only very, very +pale. She continued to advance. + +Then Buck looked up, and their eyes met. + +They say of a newly born infant that your first impression of facial +resemblance is that to which the child, grown a man, will return. So +perhaps it was for one moment with father and daughter. But, if so, it +passed instantly. Buck made an upward, deferential gesture of his +fore-finger. + +"Sha'n't be three minutes, m'm," he said. "Now, Judson, the lady's +here! He's just ready, m'm. A beautiful day!" + +Then something in Louie's look seemed to strike him. + +"It _is_ for Mrs. Allonby's, m'm, isn't it? For one-fifteen; +one-fifteen Allonby, Richards, seven to-night. You needn't have come; +he'll be there sharp." + +Louie was looking steadily at her father. "You've made a mistake," she +said. + +"What? Hi, Judson! What's this?" + +"I came--I came--with the gentleman who's just asked for you. Don't +you--don't you----" she faltered and stopped. + +"But aren't you from Mrs. Allonby's?" + +Louie was conscious that she was becoming pitifully flurried. She +could not believe now that she had ever thought this would be an easy +thing to do. And she would have to do it all herself; he had a +handsome, slightly pompous face, but it was not the face of a man who +apprehends things by intuition. She tried again. + +"You are Mr. Causton, aren't you?" + +"Beg pardon, m'm? You see, one ear----" The Piker had burst the drum +of one of Buck's ears. He inclined his head. "What did you say, m'm?" + +Suddenly Louie put one hand on the shaft of the trap and sank half +sitting on the step. The trap dipped. Her pallor was now extreme. + +"The gentleman who wishes to see you----" she began again. + +"Yes, m'm?" + +"I--I came with him----" + +"Yes, m'm--aren't you well, m'm?" + +"Don't you know me?" + +"If it isn't Mrs. Allonby's, one-fifteen----" said Buck. + +"His name--the gentleman's name----" + +Then, as the horse lifted a foot, she slipped a little on the step. +She might not have fallen, but his old and instinctive muscular +discipline counted for something. Buck had made a remarkably swift +movement, and his arm now supported her. Suddenly she surrendered her +weight to him. + +"Here, m'm," said the astonished Buck, "come and set down on the +bench." + +Louie turned up entreating eyes. "You can't guess?" + +"If it's Richards, seven----" + +"The gentleman's name--I came with--is Chaffinger----" + +"You said----?" + +"Chaffinger." + +She was too close to him to notice that he too had suddenly become +white. He still held her, but slowly half a cubic foot of air came +from his chest. Probably with a purely mechanical movement he set her +on her feet. His hand was at his sound ear. + +"Will you say it again, m'm?" he said huskily. + +Louie did so. + +"Cap-Captain Chaffinger, m'm?" + +"Oh," Louie choked, "don't call me 'm'm'!" + +"You did say Captain Chaffinger?" + +Then, leaning limply against the shaft, Louie began to speak low and +rapidly. + +"Send me away if you like--perhaps I was stupid to come--but I +wanted--I wanted--I couldn't bear it any longer--I'm all +alone--father! I'm Louie--Louie----" + +Only Buck's Maker knows whether even then he fully understood. His +grey eyes were stupidly on her grey eyes. Her voice, as she continued +to mutter broken phrases, possibly lost itself in his deaf ear; but +some other sense informed him that she was telling him that she was +his daughter--his daughter---- + +And then at one of her phrases, he seemed to come sluggishly to life. +He repeated the phrase after her. + +"Putney, m'm? Did you say Putney?" he said. + +"Yes, I live there----" + +"You live in Putney? Whereabouts in Putney?" + +"Mortlake Road." + +Buck made another sluggish effort. A quarter of a century and more +before he had said to the Honourable Emily: "_The_ Bible, Miss?" Now +he said to his daughter: + +"_The_ Mortlake Road?" + +"I suppose so." + +"You live there?" + +"Yes." + +Now Mallard Bois and Trant were more than geographically remote from +Buck. They had the immeasurable remoteness of the Scarisbricks. But +Putney was near. To keep himself in spring and condition, he +frequently walked over to Putney. Putney was a place you could walk +to, and it had streets and houses and a green Tillings' bus. And they +rowed the boat race there. Therefore, while it outraged all Order that +a Scarisbrick should live there, that fact nevertheless brought his +daughter into the same world with himself. For the first time he +looked seeingly at her, and as he looked, there vanished, more quickly +than a finger is snapped, whatever images of her had beguiled his +fancy through the years. + +This, then, was she, standing against the shaft with head back, lips +parted, brows entreatingly drawn, her whole pose an appeal. + +"Father," she was saying, smiling crookedly through those rare things, +her tears---- + +Judson came out of the stable. Buck gave him a curt order, and the +trap moved away. Its departure left Louie standing by the little bench +outside the stable door. Buck had taken a step towards her. He was +murmuring something quite ridiculous--something about "strictly for +the gentry." Perhaps he remembered that had his little girl been a +little boy he would have given her instruction for nothing at the +Sparring Academy in Bruton Street. + +All in a moment he passed his arm about Louie. Scarisbrick or not, she +was going to be a Causton and his for once--just for once. In an hour +he might be calling her "m'm" again, but just for once--his face was +beautiful. + +"That little girl," he said foolishly, holding her with as gentle a +fear as if she had been still in her cradle. + +Louie's answer was to faint suddenly on his breast. + + * * * * * + +But of the Molyneux Arms in a moment. A word about Mortlake Road +first. + +Two houses had been thrown into one to form the establishment at which +Louie had now resided for a week. Officially it was a nursing home; +actually it accepted declared invalids and quite well but unrobust +lodgers alike. Miss Cora Mayville "ran" it; her cousin, Miss Dot +Mayville, was "sister," and from four to eight uniformed nurses came +and went continually. None of them had theories, moral, social, or of +any other description; to them things were as they were. Nurse Meekins +made Louie's bed as who should say, "Helpers of people in trouble do +not go beyond their proper business"; Nurse Chalmers brought her +letters or called her to dinner in the narrowminded spirit of one who +leaves the systematics of charity to others. All were reprehensibly +incurious and shockingly affectionate, and so far was Louie's case +from being peculiar that, in the eyes of the law at any rate, Miss Dot +Mayville was herself twice a parent. Twice (when, from reasons Lord +Moone could have explained, the real parents had refused to do so) she +had signed the birth-certificates of undesired infants. This +irregularity the registrar for the district held perpetually over her +head. She laughed, and held other things over his head in return. They +were engaged to be married. + +It was to this retreat that Buck drove Louie back that January +evening, cutting "Richards, seven" without compunction. Poor Chaff had +been sent off soon after lunch; there was somebody else to fetch and +despatch his Mops now. Buck lifted Louie from the trap and rang the +bell of one of the two brass-plated doors. A German youth dressed as a +waiter appeared, and Buck bade him hold the horse. Then he went with +Louie up to her room. He took off her hat and coat for her; he seemed +unable to leave her. He had learned how it was with her. + +He had hardly turned a hair at the news. He accepted it as part of the +Scheme of Things. To him also indiscretions were of two +kinds--indiscretions, and the indiscretions of the Scarisbricks. Only +a wistful look had crossed his face; he had hoped Louie's somebody was +a gentleman otherwise than in the top-hat sense of the word; and Louie +had reassured him about that. For the rest, it was not for Buck to +inquire into the private affairs of these great ones. He would as soon +have allowed the young German who held the horse to inquire into his +own. + +"That little girl," he said once more, holding her away from him at +the side of her bed. + +"And you won't call me 'm'm,' daddy?" Louie laughed. + +Buck gave it thought; it was not so simple as it looked. "And you +really took daddy's name?" he asked. He had asked it twenty times +already. + +"Of course." + +"And told all those young ladies?" (Louie had related the incident of +Burnett Minor and the "Life and Battles.") "All about daddy and the +Piker?" + +"Of course!" + +Buck found it too wonderful. He enfolded his little girl again. + +"But you must go now," Louie said by-an-by. + +"But I can come in the morning?" + +"Yes. And, daddy----" + +"Little girl?" + +"You'll be good to poor old Chaff? He's fond of me too." + +Buck promised that he would. Had there been none other, the tantrums +of the Honourable Emily were no doubt bond enough between them. + +The next morning Buck had to be told that eight o'clock was too early +for a visit, and so, on the next morning again, he did not turn up +until eleven. After that eleven became his accustomed hour. Wet or +fine was the same to him, and he cancelled all afternoon orders for +the trap; his little girl must have the trap at her disposal for a +daily drive. And because his fidelity to the Social Order and their +own professional tolerances amounted in Louie's case to pretty much +the same thing, the nurses one and all fell in love with Buck. + +And here, once for all, or at any rate for a long time, a cogent +matter may be dismissed, even as those pagan nurses dismissed it. It +is Louie's conviction of moral guilt as apart from her persuasion of +the practical inconveniences of it. Louie Causton would have been poor +stuff for the hot gospeller to practise upon. There were things she +would have had undone, and that not merely because the consequences +pressed upon her; as they could not be undone, she had begun the tune +and intended to fiddle it out. What she saw fit to hide her historian +hides also. Louie seized what happiness she could, and it served. She +was sorrier for Chaff than she was for herself. She would have been +less happy had she taken Uncle Augustus's way out. + +And whether the days were happy or not, at any rate they were +peacefully alike. Breakfast with the nurses, a morning or afternoon +drive with Buck or a walk along the river bank or on Putney Heath, +tea (if they drove) perhaps at Kingston, supper with the nurses again, +and bed--that was the tale of them. She kept her promise to Chaff; +several times he came to see her. Twice he met Buck. At these meetings +the shade of the Honourable Emily almost visibly presided.... Chaff +tried to talk of "Lives and Battles," Buck of the same--it was not for +him to choose topics before his betters. And once, but once only, Buck +brought Mrs. Buck, formerly Susan Emmidge, the chemist's servant at +Mallard Bois. He hooked her up behind himself before they left +Kingston, and Louie did her the same service at the end of the visit. +For the rest, if Louie wanted to see her father's second wife she had +to go to the Molyneux Arms to do so. + + +II + +As the singer of "The Pilgrim of Love" Buck was known far and abroad +up the Thames. It will be believed that he contrived to get an +infinite personal pathos into the song; he also made of it, by means +of those gratuitous aspirates, an affective athletic exercise in +breathing. + + "No re-(_h_)est--but the gra-(_h_)ave + For the Pi-(_h_)ilgrim of Love!----" + +As he closed his eyes at each soaring, the effect was as if he +inwardly looked back on that remarkable pilgrimage of his own. Bidden +to marry, he had married; bidden to unmarry and to marry again, he had +done so; and at a word from Louie he would have taken up the +pilgrimage once more. + +But while Buck exalted the Scarisbricks high above himself, so also +he exalted himself high above all beneath him. He ruled the Molyneux +Arms with a rod of iron. Only mediately and through him would the two +barmaids have dared to address Louie; and his wife's position was +altogether anomalous. It was only because Louie would have it so that +she sat down to tea with them; and, what with her hooks and eyes and +Buck's perpetual admonitions, there was little rest but the grave for +her either. Buck subscribed to the _Almanack de Gotha_ and _Modern +Society_; these were always to hand; but _The Licensed Victuallers' +Gazette_, which he took in the way of business, was kept out of +Louie's way. Mr. Mackie he would have torn from limb to limb. Far more +royalist than the king was Buck; Radicalism was chaos, which word he +pronounced "tchayoss." Of pugilism, save to Chaff, he never spoke. +"God bless the Squire and his relations." + +And (Louie thought) God bless this simple-hearted father of hers also. +Buck in the ring had been a better man than Uncle Augustus in the +House of Lords, and Henson would not have looked twice at Chaff. +Granted he was pompous; with a little more pompousness her mother +would have come more creditably out of that old affair. So much for +the Scarisbricks. Already, in January, Louie loved her father; by +March his daily visit was a necessity of her life. She had been right; +her destiny was quite as likely to be bound up with Buck and his +beer-pumps as with anything in that dingy old Business School. + +Of the Business School she still thought a good deal, however. She +could not forget the interesting little drama of which she had seen, +as it were, the first act. Somehow, time and distance had simplified +some of its details without diminishing her interest in it, and, as +she walked along the Putney towpath by day, or lay awake in her +white-painted room at night, she wondered that this should be so. By +the brutal logic of events, Rainham Parva should have been nearer to +her than Holborn; but Rainham Parva seemed now disproportionately +remote. Why? + +Had the conclusion which persisted in presenting itself not been +impossible, perhaps she would not have faced it so frankly. It was +impossible--manifestly absurd--that Mr. Jeffries should have any hold +on her imagination. Therefore she allowed herself to consider it. No +doubt the fancies which filled her head would pass and be forgotten. + +Give them a month, then--two months. + +She gave them that, and more. They did not pass. But that, no doubt, +was due to the curious interrupted story. She felt as if she was +reading an interesting serial tale, for the next instalment of which +she was suddenly required to wait another month. She wanted to know +what was going to happen among the fair, perky boy, the girl who +resembled Polly Ross, the lionlike Mr. Jeffries, and that apocryphal +fourth actor in the piece. When she had learned that she would close +the book. In the meantime she occupied herself, as serial readers do, +with guessing. + +The spring was advancing towards May when there happened something +that suddenly precipitated her guessings. Buck still came daily, but +she walked more in the back garden of the nursing home now and less on +the heath and on the towpath, and drove, when she did drive, more +slowly. Sometimes on her drives a nurse accompanied her. Her doctor +found her health excellent. + +The thing that happened began with Richenda Earle. Some weeks before, +Louie had had a letter from Richenda forwarded from Sutherland Place, +which she had neglected to answer; and Richenda had apparently written +again, this time to her sister. Louie now gathered that Mrs. Leggat +had kept the reason for her disappearance from Mr. Weston, but not +from Richenda. By way of Richenda and Mr. Weston it had now reached +the Business School. A hastily scrawled letter from Kitty Windus +informed Louie of this. Kitty wanted to come and see her. + +Well, there was no reason why Kitty should not come. Louie wrote and +told her so. + +She came on a Saturday afternoon. It was not urgently necessary that +Louie should have received her in bed, but the recollection of the +spinster's peering eyes held some obscure prompting. Moreover, to +receive Kitty in bed would be an intimation that the call must not be +a long one, and she had arranged its duration with Miss Dot Mayville. + +"Miss Windus," Miss Dot announced, and Kitty entered. + +She had brought Louie a bunch of violets; that was the first of +several new amenities Louie noticed in her manner. Louie discouraged +the second amenity, which was a shy motion as if to embrace her. And +the third showed when, after a few minutes in which Kitty's fluttered +spirits had become a little calmer (_she_ was not the one to turn her +back on people in trouble, she had said, let others hold up their +heads as they pleased), she wistfully took Louie's hand on the +coverlet. She had cried over Louie a little. Her eyes were still wet. + +"Of course--but I don't know whether you've heard--I might have been +just like everybody else, only something else has made an awful +difference too," she said, her eyes downcast. + +"Oh? What else?" Louie asked a little offhandedly. She had not wanted +to be wept over. + +"Oh, then you haven't heard.... I'm engaged. I've been engaged nearly +two months." + +"Really? Then I must congratulate you. Is it a secret who to?" + +"No," said Kitty. "It's to Mr. Jeffries." + +Slowly Louie sat up. She turned, as if, like Buck, she had been deaf +on one side. "_Who?_" she asked. + +"Yes. To Mr. Jeffries. Since early in March. You remember he told +Archie there was somebody?--and," Kitty became suddenly voluble, "I +couldn't believe my ears at first. I'd never dreamed--never dreamed. +And after I'd been such a beast--I don't mean a beast exactly, but +getting at him, you know. I was just as bad as the others--about his +baths and all that. Oh, I did feel ashamed--as mean as mean--oh!" She +choked a little. "I don't mind saying it now, but I'd--I'd begun to be +afraid I should _never_ get off!" + +"Yes--no, I mean," Louie murmured, dazed. + +"Just fancy, it's being me! That night, when he asked me, I thought I +should have gone clean off it. Sometimes I can hardly believe it yet. +I hadn't a notion--not a notion! And it makes everything perfectly +wonderful, knowing a man's so struck on you, though he _is_ quiet and +don't say much about it. Of course they mean all the more, that sort. +We walk along the streets, but he won't let me stop out late for fear +of tiring me, and he always takes me right to the door, and I'm trying +hard not to be selfish, but it makes me so sorry for other girls who +haven't got off--and perhaps if I sell some of my shares to start us +with we can get married next year--if he gets a permanency, that is." + +Louie was still thunderstruck. Mr. Jeffries engaged to--Kitty Windus! +That unnamed personage was--Kitty Windus! She, Louie, was asked to +believe _that_, in the face of all she had seen! + +"I am glad," she found herself murmuring again. + +"Did _you_ guess?" Kitty asked eagerly. She would have given her ears +to be told that somebody else had guessed. + +"No," Louie replied, and added, seeing Kitty's fallen face: "I should +have thought Mr. Merridew. You seemed such great friends." + +At that Kitty broke in: "Poor Archie! I said it made one selfish.... +His father's very ill. We were going on Putney Heath to-day, all four +of us, Archie and Evie and Jeff and me; but Archie had a wire to go +home this morning, poor Archie, and so I'm going to meet the others +by-and-by. But anyway, if anything does happen, he'll be able to get +married as soon as he likes--he's an only son." + +At this Louie was even more startled. Mr. Jeffries and the Soames girl +together at that moment! She remembered those irrevocable looks. + +"So Mr. Merridew and Miss Soames are engaged, then?" she said. + +"Well," Kitty admitted, "it comes to the same thing. They're as good +as. I wish Jeff was coming into a bit, like Archie." + +"You say they're here, at Putney, this afternoon?" + +"Jeff and Evie? Yes. I'm meeting them at five." + +Even as Louie was inwardly predicting that Kitty would not see her Mr. +Jeffries at five, Miss Dot Mayville entered. But Louie did not want +Kitty to go just yet. She wanted to know more of this extraordinary +development of her drama. "May we have some tea?" she asked, and Miss +Dot went out again. Louie lay back on her pillow and frowned at the +foot of her white-painted bed. + +"It's very kind of you to give up your afternoon to me," she said +by-and-by. + +"Oh, my dear, as if I wouldn't!" Kitty broke out almost reproachfully. +"I keep telling myself I mustn't be selfish, when Jeff and I have +years before us--I'm just beginning to realise it--years--and, oh +dear, here I am, selfish again, talking all about myself and never a +word about you." + +But Louie did not want words about herself. She wanted to hear all, +all, about Kitty and Mr. Jeffries. The thing became more incredible +moment by moment. + +"I'm sorry about Mr. Merridew's father," she said presently. "I +suppose Miss Soames is very much upset?" + +"Frightfully," said Kitty. "But Jeff's looking after her. It was he +who persuaded her to go out this afternoon. It's better for her than +moping indoors." + +"Perhaps Mr. Merridew asked him to." + +"Oh no. He only got the wire this morning. But it isn't a surprise. +Jeff saw him last night----" She checked herself. She had no gibes +about brown-paper parcels now. + +"Well, you'll be quite a courting quartet," said Louie presently, with +a brightness she did not feel. + +"Yes; jolly, isn't it? But there, I'm simply _not_ going to talk +about myself one moment longer. I feel a regular beast. But it's only +because I'm so happy. Now let's talk about you. How long are you going +to be here? What sort of people are they? Isn't it fearfully +expensive? Are you frightened?" + +The suppressed inquisitive questions and Louie's preoccupied parries +lasted through tea. At a quarter to five Kitty rose. Again Louie found +herself wondering whether Kitty would see her Mr. Jeffries that day. +Kitty bent over her. + +"I should like to kiss you, dear, if you'd let me," she said timidly. +"You wouldn't believe what a difference it makes. And I'd love to come +again; I love little babies. Now I must run. I won't say a word to +Miriam Levey; you know what she is--but I simply must learn not to say +those things. Good-bye, dear." + +And she was off, waving her skimpy hand from the door. + +Louie did not know why her heart should ache already, as at a +premonition--for she had no certitude. Indeed, in all that portion of +her relation to Mr. Jeffries she had no certitude; but she was only a +little less certain on that account. Already she entirely rejected the +figment in which Kitty so pathetically believed. Months before she had +snapped her fingers at his impudent tale of a shadowy _fiancee_; now +she wondered whether he had not been caught in his own trap and found +himself compelled, by mere daily exigencies, to give that shadow +substance--the substance of Kitty. Impossible--and yet the conceivable +alternatives were equally impossible! Incredible that he should have +chosen Kitty for his stalking-horse--yet whom else had there been to +choose? If this really was a putting-upon the Business School, Mr. +Jeffries would see to it that his dupe was as known as his purpose +was secret. That left him three candidates from whom to choose +indifferently--Kitty, Miriam Levey, and herself. + +In her indignation she was unconscious of the pink that crept like a +danger signal into her cheeks. + +That poor, unconscious, betrayed woman! + +Good gracious! It was blackguardly and monstrous! Kitty of all women! +To have "predestined spinster" written large all over you was bad +enough, without being played upon thus and then cast back into +spinsterhood after all! And this new softness of Kitty's, this timid +opening of the heart, this new, awkward unselfishness, these pathetic +little maxims of conduct! The man must be a cur. Deliberately to waken +a heart that was sealed, asleep and not unhappy, and then to leave it +to a pain it must keep for ever--good gracious! + +Still ignorant of the tell-tale red in her own cheeks, she found Mr. +Jeffries vile. + +But she must be just to Mr. Jeffries. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps +there was--nay, there must be--something she didn't know. Why, even if +Mr. Jeffries could be so cruel, Kitty herself could hardly be so +blind. Struggle with new magnanimities as she would, jealousy was +native to Kitty, and jealousy has sharp eyes. No, she, Louie herself, +was building a fantastic fabric. It was mere common-sense that Kitty +must be supposed to be capable of looking after herself. + +But it was one thing to tell herself that she must suspend her +judgment and another to do it. That theory of hers seemed to unroll +itself brightly and convincingly before her again. She would discard +it when she found one that better explained the known facts. Mr. +Jeffries was with Evie Soames at that moment. Louie's thoughts flew +to Evie Soames. + +It was then that she became conscious that her cheeks were hot. It was +then also that she told herself angrily that they were not, and found +them grow hotter still. The hotter they grew the more she denied their +heat. Why should they grow hot? And even granting that they were hot, +wasn't this imposture that was being practised on Kitty enough to make +anybody's cheek hot? That was it. That discovery made, she admitted +the heat--for Kitty's sake. That that great, taciturn, clever man +should be infatuated by that pretty fool she resented--for Kitty's +sake. That his sleek head, bright as the coat of Buck's horse, should +stoop over that empty dark one she found ironically unfit--for Kitty's +sake. She told herself all this, forgetting that she had just set +Kitty's engagement down also as an absurdity. Her indignation would +have been neither more nor less honest had Mr. Jeffries engaged +himself (as according to her theory he might quite well have done) to +Miriam Levey. + +Or to herself. + +She lay, the colour coming and going. + +At last she roused herself and sat up. "Pretty thoughts for an +expectant mother!" she muttered. "I'll go downstairs and talk to Dot." + +She dressed, and descended to the nurses' sitting-room in the +basement. + +Miss Dot and her Registrar were there; they had just come in from a +walk. They were telling of a nightingale they had heard sing near +Queens Mere. "Oh, and we saw your friend again, the one who came to +tea," said Miss Dot, turning to Louie. + +Louie pricked up her ears. "Oh? Alone?" she said quickly. + +"Yes. Coming down Putney Hill." + +"Yes, she said she was going to take a walk," Louie remarked. + +But to herself she cried with conviction: "I knew it--I knew it--I +knew it!" + +For the rest of the evening she was lost in her own thoughts. Miss +Cora Mayville worked a hand sewing machine; Miss Dot and her Registrar +played bezique at a separate table; other nurses, in print aprons or +cloaked and bonneted, came and went; but Louie sat and gazed into the +fire. When spoken to she smiled mechanically and then resumed her +gazing. There was no more continuity in her thoughts than there was in +the shape of the flames that illumined her grey eyes. Roy appeared in +them for a moment or two--she had seen Roy's name in _The Gazette_ a +week before--and then Roy was supplanted by Burnett Minor. Her old +French governess at Trant popped up for no particular reason, and then +she too gave place to Mr. Mackie. She heard Buck saying again, "That +little girl"--and then came a wrangle between Dot and her Registrar. +In the adjoining kitchen she heard sounds of frying, and then somebody +came in to lay the table for supper. The gas rose and whistled as the +stove in the next room was turned off. The three night nurses came +down. Louie had her gruel where she sat, and at half-past nine went +upstairs again. She got into bed, and dreamed that night that she was +dancing with Mr. Jeffries again at the breaking-up party. Her hand lay +like a willow leaf in his. "_You_ understand," he was saying to her; +"it's no good hiding things from _you_; _you've_ got the key of it +all. It had to be somebody, and you'd left. There was only Kitty for +it. You see what an ignominious thing you escape. Don't tell me how +degrading it is; I know it; but I'd do it a thousand times for the +woman I loved and meant to marry." + +Louie knew, in her dream, who that was. + +Then she awoke with a start. The street lamp outside, shining through +the venetian blinds, made long bars of light on the walls and ceiling. +The hot-water bottle at her feet was cold. She heard the creaking of +Dot's bed in the little dressing-room adjoining, and the minute +ticking of her watch on the table by her bed-head. But what had woke +her had been the sound of her own reply, in her dream, to Mr. +Jeffries. + +"You'll shuffle Kitty off," she had replied, still dancing with him, +"but _I_ should have found a way to keep you." + +Then, with a deep sigh, she turned and went to sleep again. + + +III + +Her boy was born towards the end of June. Her mother did not visit +her; instead, she sent a letter the chief characteristic of which was +fright that she had dared even so far to disobey her brother. Louie +understood, and in her dictated reply made allowances. She wondered +whether she should write to Roy also, but in the end did not. The +child was born at three o'clock in the morning; he was hardly six +hours old when Buck arrived. The old champion stood looking down on +his little girl's little boy. It was long before he spoke. + +"I wasn't let see you," he said, two big tears rolling down his +cheeks. + +"You shall teach him to box, daddy," said Louie, smiling up at him. + +But Buck shook his head. "No, no," he said gently--"except just to +take care of himself--when he's fourteen, perhaps--if I'm here. +Swimming, not sparring. They're a queer lot, them in the ring." + +"You must go now, Mr. Causton," said Miss Dot. + +The boy was thirty hours old when there arrived for him a great case +of toys suitable for a child of four. Buck and Chaff had been round +the toyshops together. Mrs. Buck, disobeying her husband for the only +time in her life, came by stealth with a flannel binder that might +have enwrapped a six-pounds' child; Jim (as Louie had decided to call +him), weighed ten pounds, beef to the heel. + +He throve at once, and continued to thrive. + +The pair of them were the pride of that pagan Putney Nursing Home. + +The first of the two incidents that may be allowed to close this +portion of Louie's story was a second visit by Kitty Windus to Louie. + +She came at ten o'clock at night, and only with difficulty obtained +admission. She was allowed ten minutes, on the condition that Louie +was awake. Louie was awake. Kitty neither lifted her veil nor asked to +see the child. There was no trace now of her little maxims of conduct; +she spoke agitatedly, and out of a stinging, jealous pain. + +"I've come to ask you something, Miss Causton, and you've got to tell +me," she announced, without preface. "I've a right to know." + +"Speak a little lower," said Louie, glancing at the babe. "Sit down +and tell me what it is." + +But Kitty would not sit. Incapable of grandeurs of style, she +nevertheless attempted them. + +"I don't know whether you happen to be aware what people are saying +about you," she said. Her boat-shaped hat and Inverness cape gave her +a little the appearance of a scanty tree with which some topiary +artist had done his best. + +Louie could not help smiling a little; she could have that kind of +thing out with herself without calling in Kitty. + +"My dear! Of course I know they might be saying anything!" She drew +her child a little closer to her. + +"Suppose we keep the my dears till we've finished talking," said Kitty +coldly. "I mean what they're saying at the Business School." + +Louie spoke quietly. "I suppose you mean about me and my boy?" + +"Yes, I do mean that, and I've come to ask you to your face; _I'm_ not +the one to beat about the bush! I want to know who----" There was no +need for Kitty to complete the sentence. + +"You won't know that," said Louie, more quietly still. + +"Ah! perhaps you won't tell me because you daren't?" + +"I've not told anybody, and I'm not going to tell you. I'd die first. +Perhaps before we go any further you'll tell me why you want to know?" + +"You don't suppose I'd ask you if it wasn't my business, do you?" + +Slowly Louie turned her eyes on her. She spoke slowly too. "We should +get on more quickly if you didn't jump so to conclusions," she said. +"I don't know what your conclusions are, but you seem to have made +your mind up about something. If you'll change your tone I'll talk to +you; if you won't, I won't." + +At that Kitty began to sob. She had to lift her veil in order to put a +wisp of wet handkerchief to her eyes. But she changed her tone. + +"I only want to know," she said. "And I don't want to know if it isn't +my business. But I _have_ seen him look at you, and he _did_ dance +with you, and when they said----" + +"Who said?" Louie interrupted; but she had already made a guess. "And +said what?" + +"Jeff, of course," Kitty replied. "Miriam Levey noticed him looking at +you first, but after that I saw for myself. And you did dance with +him. I might forgive him, but I'd never, never forgive _you_." + +Louie suddenly put a question. Apparently it was for nothing less +preposterous than that question that Kitty was here. + +"One moment," she said. "Do you mean there's something about Mr. +Jeffries and myself you want to know?" + +"Yes; and I mean to know," Kitty snapped. + +"And that's all?" + +"Enough, _I_ should say!" + +"Please hear me out. In fact"--Louie paused for a moment and then +rapped out sharply--"you want to know whether my lover was Mr. +Jeffries?" + +"That'll do to be going on with," said Kitty sullenly. + +"Then I'll tell you if you'll tell me who said he was." + +"I don't see what that's got to do with it, but I'll tell you if you +like. Archie Merridew said so. There!" + +Archie Merridew!--But Louie restrained her gasp. "Thank you," she +said. "May I ask whether you've asked Mr. Jeffries? _He_ might be in a +position to know, you know." + +"No, I haven't." + +"But evidently you've seen something in his manner that would make it +not quite impossible?" + +"I tell you, you've danced with him, and he's looked at you in a sort +of way--more than once, Miriam says--and you're trying to shuffle out +of the question," said Kitty, her suspicions aflame again. + +"Oh, I'll answer the question! If it had been he"--she glanced at the +little head under her breast--"I'd tell you in a minute--for my baby's +sake, you see. But it was not; and you might have saved yourself a +journey if you'd gone to him first. And now please tell me a little +more." + +Kitty still looked at her suspiciously. "You said you'd die sooner +than tell," she cried quaveringly. + +"You mean you don't believe me? Well, I can't make you. If I told you +the truth you'd just think I'd made up a name." + +"It _was_ somebody else?" cried Kitty eagerly. + +If it wasn't Mr. Jeffries, naturally--there was the child---- + +"Oh, I _want_ to believe you!" Kitty suddenly broke out. + +Louie laughed desperately. "Well, my dear, you may. If it was so, I +suppose you'd get it out of me. It isn't, that's all. And now I think +I've a right to know exactly what this Mr. Merridew has been saying." + +Kitty looked hard at her for one moment longer, and then sank on her +knees by the side of the bed. She had no choice but to believe. She +broke into a torrent of words, low-spoken, not to rouse the child. +Louie heard them, amazed. Slowly her incredulity turned into contempt. + +The horrid little beast! But, after all, she was not surprised. It was +all in his character. Perhaps he had been drunk; perhaps it was merely +a fancy-stationery idea of humour. Not that she minded a straw; she +laughed; she supposed she was there to have stones thrown at her; it +was merely a little annoying that they were not thrown straighter. She +could picture the over-pocket-monied little bounder, measuring all +pecks out of his own bushel, leaning up against a bar somewhere, +probably too fuddled to distinguish his own humorous fancy from a +story of life with names given, and believing it himself by the time +he had repeated it once or twice. + +The little worm! + +"But," she said presently, disgustedly smiling, "_you_ remember when I +came to the School, and that I asked _you_ who Mr. Jeffries was----" + +"Of course!" said Kitty, suddenly entirely believing. "How absurd! But +oh, I do love him so." + +Louie mused. + +"And he--Mr. Jeffries--knows nothing about this, you say?" she asked +presently. + +"No. He thinks something's wrong. He's been teaching at the School, +you know, and of course he must have wondered what was the matter all +this last week." + +"It's a week since Mr. Merridew--did me this favour?" + +"Yes. But perhaps Jeff thought----" She checked herself. + +"What? I think I ought to know what Mr. Jeffries may have thought." + +Kitty hesitated, and then, with a little burst, told her. It was +curious. It appeared that Mr. Jeffries had been very hard up indeed, +so hard up that, quite recently, he had actually had to take a +position as a commissionaire. It was known, and possibly he had set +any oddities of behaviour towards himself down to that. + +A commissionaire! Louie was astounded. + +"And aren't you going to tell him?" she managed to get out. + +"I must, the very next time I see him." + +"You mean to-morrow?" + +"I don't know. You see"--Kitty hesitated again--"he's left the School. +Practically been dismissed. He's got some work at Bedford now." + +"Dismissed on account of this?" + +"I expect so." + +"And now, of course, you've got to tell him that you believed this?" + +Kitty dropped her head on the bed. She gave a little moan. "I don't +know how I shall ever do it!" she groaned in the bedclothes. + +Louie considered herself entitled to agree that it wouldn't be easy. + +Presently Kitty rose. She crossed to Louie's mirror and adjusted the +boat-shaped hat. Then she came back to the bedside again and craned +her head forward. + +"May I see the baby?" she asked. + +"Another time, I think," said Louie, her lips compressed. + +Kitty left. + +Louie's mind was in a whirl. At her request, Kitty had turned out the +gas before leaving, and only a nightlight glimmered on the little +invalid's table. She gazed at it. So she too had been haled into the +drama! + +On the young fancy stationer she wasted never a thought, either of +indignation or of anything else; but Kitty--Evie Soames--Mr. +Jeffries--Roy--herself!--What a nightmare--what a pantomime! What an +incredible genius this Mr. Jeffries seemed to have for getting himself +into complications and dragging other people after him! It might well +have puzzled anybody--anybody who had not the key of the puzzle--to +know which among them all he really had honoured with his choice! Only +Miss Levey seemed to be immune. Surely, for the sake of completeness, +he could have found a way of dragging her in too! + +Louie had to hold her key exceedingly firmly in order to retain even +that lunatic theory that seemed to be the truth. + +By dint of holding fast, however, the theory still stood the strain. +Evie Soames and Mr. Jeffries were still the central figures of the +piece. Kitty was still the stalking-horse behind which, for whatever +reasons, he machinated. She herself was still merely dragged in at the +whim of a vicious little scoundrel over whose tongue whisky and +calumnies ran indifferently, and this little beast was still engaged, +or all but engaged, to Evie Soames. Yes, the triangle re-established +itself. Kitty and herself were no more than imported complications. +The big man and the red-waistcoated youth were still the protagonists, +and they faced one another over the stupid little head of Evie Soames. + +And yet Louie, lying with her boy at her breast and blinking at the +nightlight, refused to class herself with the superfluous Kitty. She +did not see herself in a "walking on" part. Though she made her entry +late, something told her that she would have a word to say--or else it +was a botched and mangled piece indeed. Of life itself as a botched +and mangled piece she had no conception; though she kept her thoughts +of Him locked within her own breast, it was still the bed of them that +there _was_ an Artist over all. But for a false start she would have +been on the stage now, and she would have given a voice to that +pitiful part of poor Kitty's. Say she had not left that Holborn School +when she did--she remembered that breaking-up dance--had one more +opportunity like that been given to her---- + +Then in the darkness she coloured violently. She had realised her own +thoughts. This was as much as to say that she would have accepted +Kitty's role--would have consented to be an understudy--would, like +other understudies, have ousted the principal in time--would have +topped the bill with a man the latest of whose mysterious activities +was that he had been a commissionaire---- + +She loved, or was on the point of loving, Mr. Jeffries---- + +"Nonsense!" she ridiculed herself. + +But nonsense or not, it was stronger than all her efforts to think +about something else. Perhaps it was her own false start that set her +wondering, and ever returning to her wonder, whether he had not made +one too. He seemed to have set up the figure of Evie Soames in his own +imagination, and probably had not looked at Evie Soames as she +actually was since. He seemed to have his full share of that masculine +vanity which will have nothing to do with the compromise by which the +world jogs on; his rapt, lion's eyes might see visions afar off, and +he would not as much as know that his shins were black and raw with +the bruises of the hard facts among which he stumbled. Little as Louie +knew of him, she thought she knew that. Lucky Evie Soames, who might +be as stupid as the mud beneath her feet, yet in one man's blind, +far-seeing eyes could do no wrong! + +But of course it was nonsense that Louie should have to recognise Evie +Soames for her rival. + +Yet, on one other point, as she lay with the babe at her breast and +her eyes fixed on the little flame of the nightlight, she was already +prepared to make a wager with herself. Her theory was still only a +theory; she could not prove it; but it could prove itself. It would +work out or it would not work out; if it worked out--well, Louie was a +woman, and no woman hesitates for a single moment to put on the mantle +of the prophet. Indeed, she had prophesied long before. "Circumstances +are strong," this Mr. Jeffries who had since been a commissionaire had +admitted when she had danced with him, "but is anybody ever beaten +unless they deserve to be?" And he had taken his failure in the +examination as a sign that he ought not to have gone in for it, and +had refused to enter again. Yes, the earthenware vessel was on the +point of collision with the one of bronze, and which would break the +months or the weeks or the days would show. Kitty must not think that +it availed a predestined spinster anything that she got engaged; Mr. +Jeffries would never marry Kitty. + +And if Louie herself had returned to the Business School after +Christmas---- + +Her dream of how she had danced with him, and he had said "_You_ +understand," and she had replied, "_I_ should have found a way to keep +you," returned vividly to her---- + +She would have found a way. + +Then she remembered that which even then had stood between. + +Excitedly she clutched her boy to her--he woke with the pressure, and +gave a little croaking cry. + +This, then, was the first of the two things that remained to be told +about this part of Louie's story. + +For the second of them she had neither years nor months to wait, but a +bare fortnight. A very few words will tell it. + +One evening after the boy had been put to bed she went down into the +nurses' parlour and helped Dot and Nurse Chalmers to overhaul the +blouses in which the doctors operated. Besides themselves, only Miss +Cora was present; she was reading an evening paper. Louie saw her +purse her lips and then throw the paper away. Presently Louie, tossing +a patched blouse aside, reached for the paper. + +A few minutes later Miss Cora, with a "Why, what's the matter?" +started forward and bent over her. Louie had gone deathly white. + +"It's nothing--I shall be all right presently," she muttered, her eyes +closed. + +Miss Cora took the paper. The page at which she herself had last +looked was still uppermost. It contained an account of a suicide. + +"What is it, dear?" Miss Cora asked again. "Not that?" She pointed to +the paragraph. Indeed, there was little else of interest on the page. + +"I shall be all right in a minute," Louie murmured again. + +There was nothing remarkable about the suicide. A young man had hanged +himself behind his bedroom door, and a verdict in accordance with the +evidence (which, it was suggested, was largely medical) had been +returned. He had left a letter for his mother, precisely like almost +every other such letter, and parts of it were quoted. The young man's +name was Archie Merridew. He was to have been married on the morrow. + +"Is that it?" Miss Cora asked again. + +Louie nodded. + +"Did you know him?" + +Louie made no reply. + +They are experienced women at nursing homes; especially about +suppressed medical evidence they are able to draw conclusions. The +next morning a few rapid guarded words passed between Louie and Miss +Cora. The effect of them was to give Louie a sudden feeling of nausea. +Miss Cora's whispered explanation seemed only too probable. That also +was all in his character. + +"That's it, you may be sure," said Miss Cora. "They ought to be +lethal-chambered, nasty little sewer-rats; one of 'em's saved them the +trouble at any rate. Did you know the girl he was going to marry too?" + +"Yes," said Louie. + +"Well, she's had an escape. But don't think about it. You have your +own little boy. Come into the garden till your father comes and then +have a nice long drive. Shall we wrap Jimmy up and let him go with +you?" + +That, then, was the second thing; but already Louie had heard a +prophetical whisper in her soul. + + + + +PART IV + +PILLAR TO POST + + +I + +When, in the October of 1896, Louie Causton left Mortlake Road, with +half the nurses of the home waving their handkerchiefs after her, she +went to a house near the Parson's Green end of Wandsworth Bridge Road. +As she left that house before Christmas, going to another one near the +Walham Green Town Hall, there is no need to describe it. Neither need +the Walham Green house be described, since from there she went, in +February 1897, to yet another house, in a street off the Bishops Road, +Fulham. These and other removals did not necessitate the use of a +pantechnicon; a four-wheeler sufficed on each occasion. Louie, the boy +and the nurse went inside; the top was quite big enough for her +belongings. She stuck to the south-western district; at no time did +she move farther east than when she took two rooms in Cheyne Walk, +over a bicycle shop near the Chelsea suspension bridge--which rooms, +by the way, she was forced to leave at an hour's notice, her landlord, +a man of straw, being himself ejected and involving his sub-tenant in +his own catastrophe. She kept to this district because of its nearness +to Kingston and the Molyneux Arms. By the time the boy was nine months +old she was living in Tadema Road, not far from where the Chelsea +power-station now stands. + +The nurse whom she had engaged was a link--save for Chaff the only +one--with Trant. She was, indeed, her own old French governess, once +Celeste Martin, now Celeste Farnier and a widow. She was a +Provencale, from Arles. On the death of her husband, which had taken +place while Louie had been still at the home in Mortlake Road, she had +sought out Chaff with a sheaf of testimonials, and by-and-by Louie had +engaged her. She paid her ten shillings a week, on the distinct +understanding that she must not hesitate to accept the first decent +post that offered. It was already plain that, even if Celeste could +have brought herself to leave the little girl to whom she had taught +the order of the personal pronouns in French, her affection for Master +Jim would have haled her back again. + +Louie changed her abode so frequently for one reason and another. In +perhaps a third of the cases the landladies to whom she offered +herself as a lodger found reasons for asking her to leave when they +saw that her letters were addressed to "Miss Causton." Then, to save +cab fares, Louie began to make her position plain at the outset. +Sometimes this made a difference, sometimes none. On the whole, London +S.W. showed itself charitable or merely indifferent. By May 1897 she +was at another house in Wandsworth Bridge Road. + +She had not refused to accept, easily and as a loan, a sum of money +from Buck; but thrice she had well-nigh quarrelled with Buck because +she would accept it only as a loan. Twice, for the same reason, she +had had tussles with Chaff. But money, until she should find something +settled to do, she must have. No doubt Richenda Earle would have +shaken her head and have pointed out that now Louie not only had the +Scarisbricks behind her, but a prosperous publican also; but Louie, +though she lived as frugally as if she had to earn every penny, did +not see why her boy should go short while there was money to be had. +She took the sensible view of the matter, and borrowed, while walking +her shoes out and answering advertisements for this, that and the +other. + +Up to the summer of '97 her occupations had been almost as various as +her addresses. She very soon discovered that her Holborn training was +of little use to her, and she could not (as also she discovered) play +the piano well enough to give lessons. What she dreamed of, of course, +was a comfortable private secretaryship; no young woman is so +ill-trained or so incompetent but she fancies herself good enough for +a private secretaryship. Perhaps Uncle Augustus might have helped her +to one, but she would have nothing to do with Uncle Augustus; and +Chaff was unable to beat up anything of the kind. Buck's proposal, +that she should keep his books, had been the cause of their second +altercation. Common-sense in the matter of borrowing she was prepared +to be; beyond that point she remembered her pride and Richenda's +words. So for the present she was spared the worst of the pinch. + +So, in the early part of that year, she was in an A.B.C. cash-desk, +traveller for a History, and saleswoman at an Earls Court +chocolate-stall. Then, in June, she obtained, actually in the face of +considerable competition, a place in the showrooms of a Bond Street +photographer. Perhaps her dresses, of which several still remained, +helped her to this place. She wrote letters, arranged appointments, +answered press and other calls on the telephone, and received sitters. +No doubt some of these knew Uncle Augustus. Robson, of the Board of +Trade (who came one day), would probably know him; so would George +Hastie, Robson's friend and colleague, and perhaps Sir Peregrine +Campbell and others. Some of them, the more sporting sort, might even +know Buck too, for Buck was still a tradition; in short, Louie's own +position amused her immensely. By taking her letters home with her and +leaving a younger assistant in charge, she was frequently able to +leave the showrooms by half-past four and to spend the evenings with +Celeste and her boy. Incidentally, Louie improved her French a good +deal, for Celeste crooned over the boy in French and English +indifferently.... "The darleeng--the lo-ove--the precieux--oh, oh, oh, +mais il existe--il manifeste, le petiot----"; and she would break off +to sing, in a cracked voice, "Le Pont d'Avignon," or some lullaby of +Frederic Mistral. She idolised the infant; when he was put to bed she +did not delay long to follow him, for Louie, who had her work to do +during the day, must not be roused at night; and so Louie frequently +sat alone, writing her letters or wrapped in her own musings. She +received thirty-five shillings a week. Her job had the appearance of a +"permanency." In July she got a "rise" of three shillings a week. She +also got ten days' holiday, the greater part of which she spent in the +company of her father. She was beginning to know what holidays meant +now. + +On one of those days she had an unexpected little meeting in Richmond +Park. Celeste and the boy had gone on by train, and she was walking. +The meeting was with a girl called Myrtle Morris, who, when Louie had +kept the confectionery stall at Earls Court, had sold cigarettes at +the stall adjoining. Miss Morris was accompanied by a tall young man; +she stopped to greet Louie, and the young man walked slowly on. Myrtle +asked Louie what she was doing now. Louie told her. "And you?" she +said. + +"Oh, I've gone back to my old trade," the girl said, nodding towards +her retreating companion. "Artists' model. That's my present +employer--Izzard." + +"Who?" said Louie. The name seemed familiar. + +"Billy Izzard. Know him?" + +"No," said Louie. But she remembered now where she had heard the name. + +"Jolly clever painter," said the model authoritatively. "Nice fellow +too. Shall I call him?" + +"Thanks, but I must be getting on," said Louie. "Good-bye." + +"So long. Come and look me up some time, won't you? 25 Edith Grove." + +"Thank you. Good-bye." + +So that was Roy's friend! They had not gone down with the yacht that +had lain under the hill at Rainham Parva. But she had only seen Mr. +Izzard's back. For a moment, but only for a moment, she thought of +Roy; then the sum-total of a long sequence of reveries returned to her +again. + +Or rather, the factors that made that total returned. In spite of her +broodings late at night, when her letters were written and Jimmy's +food prepared for the night, she was still unable to cast them up. Had +she been asked to state her relation now to Mr. Jeffries her attempt +would have been something like this: + +"It's perfectly absurd, of course. There is no relation--nothing that +can properly be called a relation. How can there be, with a man I +don't see--haven't seen since that queer party? I don't even know +where he is or what he's doing; he may be a commissionaire again for +all I know." + +"Yes, but," she now answered herself, as if it had been some form of a +dialogue, "don't forget that other night, at Mortlake Road, after +Kitty'd gone." + +She did not forget that night. She had told herself that night that it +was nonsense that she should love Mr. Jeffries. Again she answered +that critical objector within herself. + +"But it _is_ nonsense after all! How _can_ I? I suppose I mean that if +things had been different I might have loved him. Moping about a man +you never see is all very well for a schoolgirl for a week or two, but +not for grown women, and mothers at that." + +"Then you mean he's just the same to you as Buck and Chaff?" the +dialogue continued, as she walked. + +"All I mean is that he might have been more." + +"Well, suppose you were to hear now that he'd broken off with Kitty, +and--you know--that other were to happen?" + +She did know what she meant by "that other." It was the most familiar +of her thoughts. It was what in her heart she was stilly waiting +for--to learn one day that Mr. Jeffries had broken off with Kitty and +had become engaged to Evie Soames. And at that point she always tried +to stop the dialogue. Beyond that point lay something that she vaguely +apprehended might be horrible. + +She had no definite reason for supposing this horrible thing to exist. +The horror, indeed, was that it might exist, and to entertain morbid +thoughts about something that merely might exist was neither pleasant +nor wise. But at times she could not forget the promise she had once +made to herself--that if anything unaccountable ever happened to a +certain young man she would know in what quarter to look for the +likely cause of it. And something had happened. Part of what had +happened she had had from Miss Cora; "A lethal chamber--the nasty +little sewer-rat!" Miss Cora had said; and it had happened on the eve +of his wedding to Evie Soames. To commit suicide had been the only +thing to do. + +And of course he had committed suicide.... + +Then that second voice within her tried to speak again. "Remember," it +said, "that this Mr. Jeffries, of whom you can't help thinking when +all's said and done, had suffered innumerable insults from him--you +yourself were dragged into one of them----" + +"Quiet!" the other self commanded peremptorily. + +"--and as far as that girl you hate's concerned--Evie Soames--if the +reason was good enough for suicide it was good enough for the other +thing." + +"What other thing?" Louie, in spite of herself, could not help asking. + +"Oh--_you_ know!" + +"Do you know what you're saying?" This was an attempt to browbeat the +other Louie. + +"Oh, perfectly well! _I_ know myself--you--us--Louie Causton--better +than you do! And I know that lion better! Have you forgotten? Don't +you remember what you thought of him, that if he set his mind on a +thing he'd get it sooner or later, one way or another? Don't you +remember what he said--'I wonder if anybody's ever beaten who doesn't +deserve to be?' They are dangerous men who believe that! And the way's +clear for him now, isn't it? Of course it is! Why, suppose you hear, +first, that he's thrown Kitty Windus over; suppose you hear, next, +that he's forging ahead in his business, whatever it is--you know he's +as ambitious as Satan; then suppose you hear that he's engaged to Evie +Soames--married to her. Suppose you hear all this?" + +"Oh, anybody can make up an _a priori_ tale like that!" the other +scoffed. + +"Perhaps they can; but what _is_ a murder anyway? Whoever sees one +committed? Don't they hang men on just such _a priori_ tales, as you +call it? Suppose that, rather than let him marry that girl----" + +"Oh, stop, stop!" Louie positively shrieked within herself. + +She was white. This scene always turned her white. She quickened her +pace, but her ghastly pallor remained unchanged. A hundred times she +had argued it all before, and she knew the conclusion that would +presently come. + +It came, the conclusion. That portion of herself that always seemed +resolved to convict Mr. Jeffries of a hideous thing spoke, as it were, +softly, seductively. + +"And what then, Louie? What then? Come, don't be afraid of yourself! +You know it in your heart all the time! Roy--you remember--_you_ had +to make the love there; and you want to be _made_ love to, not to make +love. _You_ didn't find Mr. Jeffries a butt and a laughing-stock, you +know. You envied that little chit of a milliner's hand--envied her and +hated her. And she hates you, and always will, because you caught her +in the dark with that other creature. Yes, yes, I know you were +overstrung at that time, and didn't see yourself very clearly, but +look at the thing now--you're calm now. When you saw his eyes, all +full of perils and stratagems and deceits, all for her sake, you know +you longed to have a man do all that for _you_! And when he did that +mad thing with Kitty Windus, you know you wanted a man who would go +even to those lengths for _you_! And you know that when he throws her +over--brutally, heartlessly, without conscience--you'll want a man who'll +be just as brutal and heartless and conscienceless for _you_! You all +want it! You all love a ruthless man! You know it's the men who are the +merciful sex when sex comes into the question; you're only merciful +when it doesn't--just as those stupid men are merciless about the +abstractions you don't care a straw about!... So suppose--suppose----" + +"Oh, stop!" Louie besought herself faintly. + +"--suppose it turns out as I say! Won't you immediately love him a +little more when poor Kitty's sent about her business? And won't you +love him a little more still when you hear he's engaged to Evie +Soames? And won't you, when you learn that he's been willing to go all +lengths--all lengths--for love, love him past all mending? You will, +you will, you know you will!" The cry rang out almost exultantly. + +"But--but--those people--coroners' juries--are supposed to know all +about these things." + +"Coroners' juries!... Do you remember his eyes?..." + +Beyond that point Louie never got. She usually rose quickly and went +out to post the photographer's letters. There, then, were the elements +of her sum. Sometimes some of them presented themselves, sometimes +others; more and more she shrank from casting the total. And often, to +shake off the hideous, fascinating obsession, she did the most trivial +thing she could think of--went to a drawer and overhauled her +dresses, selecting the one she would wear at the photographer's +showroom on the morrow. + +It was in her to turn from the thought of a possible murder to the +shaking out of a crumpled dress. + +But she never wore the oyster-grey at the showrooms in Bond Street. +Nevertheless she shook it out frequently, putting it back into the +drawer again. + + * * * * * + +That day, at the Molyneux Arms, Buck was alternately at his fondest +and at his most tyrannical. The fondness was for Louie and the boy, +the tyranny for everybody else. As Louie entered the little private +parlour (she was not allowed to set foot in the rest of the premises) +she heard loud crowings; they came from Jimmy, and were for the +Pilgrim of Love who held him up at arm's-length in the air; but the +next moment Buck was scolding a barmaid who had had the temerity to +borrow the current number of _Modern Society_ before Louie had seen +it. "Not that I don't make 'em all read it," he said, "but at times +and seasons, and in their proper places; what with all these Radicals +and what not we don't want chayoss coming again! You bring it back +this minute, miss!--'Oryn--thia my Beloved!" + +Buck kept his divided humour through tea; then there was another +outburst. This time it was about a letter that had not been given to +Louie immediately. + +"And how do _you_ know that it isn't important?" he broke out on his +wife. "Not a word--not a word! I _know_ it is important--all letters +addressed so are important, mind, for the future! Those letters aren't +about the butcher and baker and candlestick-maker, I'll have you +know! Give it to her at once, and let Madermoselle hook up the back, +or your next dress shall fasten down the front, I promise you!... +What, little man! A granddad, eh? 'No re-(_h_)-est--but the +gra-(_h_)-ave----'" + +For all Louie was able to guess from the signature, her letter might +have been from butcher, baker and candlestick-maker, all three; the +name--"hers to serve, Frank Hickley"--was unknown to her. But the +single other name that the letter contained was known. It was that of +Kitty Windus. She was laid up somewhere in Vauxhall, and wanted to see +her. + +The next morning, in a shabby respectable street off the Vauxhall +Bridge Road, Louie rang a bell beneath which, punched in a strip of +aluminium, was the sign, "F. Hickley, Agent." F. Hickley himself +opened the door. Later Louie learned that he was an agent for his +wife's shopping, boot-cleaning and potato-peeling. Mrs. Hickley was +Kitty's cousin, but the bit she had coming in was not enough to +relieve her of the necessity of keeping a lodging-house. That it was a +lodging-house Louie guessed from the number and variety of hats and +coats that hung in the narrow yellow-painted hall. Mrs. Hickley +appeared from somewhere below; Mr. Hickley, descending again, passed +her on the stairs. + +"Are you Miss Causton?" Mrs. Hickley asked. + +"Yes. I've had a letter saying Miss Windus was here." + +"Will you come up? Don't take too much notice of her, what she says, +especially about tracts; Uncle Arthur's side's liable to it. This +way." + +"Is she ill?" Louie asked. + +"Not to call ill. She'll go to Margate in a week or two, for the air, +though Margate's too strong for me; Littlehampton's my favourite. And +Bognor. Mind the stair-rod--I must tell Frank to fasten it down." + +As Kitty had formerly found Louie, so Louie now found Kitty--in bed. +Her muteness as long as Mrs. Hickley remained in the room seemed +obstinate, _voulu_; the rapid speech into which she broke without +preface when her cousin's step had ceased to sound on the stairs +confirmed some vague impression of secretiveness. Louie was uneasy at +the change in her. + +"You're not to talk about it," Kitty said, the words falling one over +the other; "that's what the doctor meant, though of course he didn't +know what it was. And Mr. Folliott too--the Reverend Mr. Folliott of +St. Peters. He gave me the address in Cliftonville, quite the best end +of the town; there's such a lot in a good address, don't you think? +You know Margate?" + +"How are you, dear?" said Louie gently. "Yes, your cousin told me you +were going away for a bit." + +"Right away," said Kitty. "I can, you see; I haven't got to work if I +don't want to; though I'm not rich, of course. Neither is Annie, but I +don't like to see men doing the housework like Cousin Frank for all +that. I've told Frank so again and again. '_Be_ an agent,' I've said +time after time; 'for typewriters, or mangles, or tea, or anything you +like, but get out of the house; it isn't a man's place.' And it +isn't.... You've heard?" she broke off suddenly to say. + +She blinked at Louie. Her neck above her nightgown was hardly more +substantial than that of a chicken; her hands seemed to have become +as veined as a skeleton leaf. Louie took one of them. + +"Always running errands and setting the table--it isn't a man's life," +Kitty continued. "'What does agent _mean_?' I said to him. 'Pull +yourself together and _make_ it mean something, Frank!' I said. +'You're not very big, but you're strong, and you've got your wits +about you,' I said.... You've heard?" she demanded once more. + +"Well, tell me how you are," said Louie, patting the thin hand +soothingly. + +"But have you heard the news? Glad tidings for all. 'Come unto Me, and +I will give you rest'--that's what we all want--rest; though why they +should print 'Come' in red and 'unto' in green and 'Me' in purple, and +all the letters like twigs, I'm sure I can't tell you, my dear. And +always Oxford frames. I must ask Mr. Folliott. 'Though your sins be as +crimson----'" + +"You haven't asked how my little boy is, Kitty," said Louie. + +"'Suffer the little children, and forbid them not'--how is he?" + +But she did not wait for an answer. She was off again--the doctor, the +Reverend Mr. Folliott, her approaching visit to Margate. And always +she returned to the indignity of a man's doing women's work about the +house. It was in this connection that she suddenly mentioned, in a way +that gave Louie a slight start, the name of Mr. Jeffries. + +"I will at least say that for him," she prattled; "I shouldn't have +got sick of the sight of him; out of the house at half-past nine he'd +have been, and that would have been the end of him till six o'clock; +not always bumping into you like Frank. I suppose you know Miss +Levey's there too, at his Company? He's getting on there like +anything. So's Mr. Mackie; you remember Mr. Mackie? He takes the +auction himself now on Mondays and Thursdays; in Oxford Street; +everybody stops as they walk past; he's a caution, is Mr. Mackie, I +can tell you! But of course Jeff"--here she became mysterious, and +nodded once or twice--"Jeff's on the way up--up. It's a different +class of work from Mr. Mackie's; better, as you might say; he's in the +Confidential Exchange Department, Miriam says----" + +"How is Miss Levey?" Louie asked, at a loss what else to say. + +"Oh, in the pink--but the soul's the chief thing; what shall it profit +a man; and I don't know whether her soul's in the pink. Do you always +_hold_ with the Church of England, Louie?" she asked earnestly. + +There was nothing to be made of her. She ran on weakly, irresponsibly, +from trifle to trifle, and it was at Louie's own risk that she gave +her talk any significance at all.... Suddenly she insisted that she +herself had broken the engagement, not he. She spoke of his place in +the Company--it was the Freight and Ballast Company; it appeared to be +a "permanency." He was getting on--on; _he_ wouldn't polish brasses +and take the lodgers' boots to be mended!... As she talked, Louie +looked round the poor, neat little bedroom. It had framed texts and a +picture of a lady shipwrecked in a nightgown; this was entitled +"Simply to Thy Cross I cling." There was a good deal of muslin about, +tied back with flyblown bows. + +But suddenly Kitty seemed to remember something. Louie was once more +gently patting the hand on the counterpane when she gave a quick +little clutch and sat up. + +"They wrote to you to come, didn't they?" she asked, looking hard at +Louie. + +"Yes, dear. I'd have come sooner if I'd known. The letter was sent on +from Mortlake Road. I came as soon as I got it." + +"That's all right," said Kitty, nodding mysteriously again. "I want to +talk to you. Is the door shut?" + +"Yes; but don't talk. Let me talk to you instead." + +"No; there's something I want to say, and I shall forget it if I don't +say it now.... You heard about it, didn't you? I don't mean the glad +tidings for all----" + +"Lie down, dear." (Kitty was squatting up in bed.) "Tell me the next +time I come. I'll come again." + +"No, I must tell you now. Though Jeff's sins be as scarlet. Of course +you heard about Archie?" + +"Hush." + +"Of course you'd be down on him; quite right; so was Jeff. Jeff didn't +half give him a talking to, I can tell you! 'Oh, I'll give him a +dressing down,' he said; he was pretending it wasn't much, so as not +to alarm me; but _I_ know him! 'Miss Causton and me?' he said. 'What a +ridiculous idea!' And he made Archie apologise before the whole +school. And now Archie's gone, and they said it was suicide; but what +I can't understand is about Jeff's having that black eye, that very +day. He'd fallen when he was drunk, he said, but Jeff never got drunk. +He said he tripped on the step; but he never _got_ drunk, if you +understand what I mean. Wine is a mocker, isn't it, Louie? But I'm +sure Jeff wasn't drunk. He isn't that kind of man." + +Louie herself wondered why she should interpose as quickly and +peremptorily as she did. She wondered, too, why she should do so in +the words she used and in a voice so thin and harsh. + +"Oh--of _course_ he was drunk! My father keeps a public-house, so I +ought to know. And they often get black eyes when they're drunk. Let's +talk about something else." + +"Well," said Kitty, with her head on one side, "a public-house is as +paying a business as there is, especially in a poor neighbourhood. But +I'd rather have my little bit in tramways. People ought to be careful +how they invest their money; dividends aren't everything; what shall +it profit a man? So you think I needn't worry about Jeff's black eye?" + +All at once Louie felt an almost hysterical need to turn Kitty's weak +wanderings into another direction--any other direction. Glibly she +began to improvise. + +"It's horrid," she said, her voice a little raised. "I've seen them at +my father's. They get drunk, and fall, and then they get black eyes +quite easily. And," she ran on regardlessly, "they knock themselves +about fearfully! I saw a man in the Harrow Road one night----" + +Feverishly she extemporised. To something she had once seen from the +top of a bus she gave colour and circumstance. Kitty was impressed. +"Dear me!" she said. + +Then, when the danger, whatever it was, seemed to be averted, Louie +turned, though not much more calmly, to Margate. Kitty was perfectly +docile; Margate or that dangerous other were all the same to her. +Louie had never been to Margate, but she compared Margate with other +places--Bournemouth, Ilfracombe, Scarboro. + +"I should like to go to Scarboro," Kitty mused--"Harrogate +too--Harrogate's tremendously toney, isn't it?" + +"Very; all hotels and kursaals and pump rooms and things," averred +Louie, who had never been to Harrogate either. + +Then, ten minutes later, she rose. She said good-bye. But even as she +did so she received another start. Kitty had suddenly called in a +sharp, loud voice. + +"Was that Annie at the door?" + +"No," said Louie, her nerves all on edge. "There's nobody." + +"Open the door and look!" + +Louie did so. There was nobody. She returned to the bed again. Kitty +was once more squatting up. She still spoke sharply. + +"It's all very well to be so cocksure," she said, "but if Annie was to +guess, or Miriam Levey or any of them, it would be all U P, I can tell +you! Or Evie Soames either! I only told you because you're different +and can hold your tongue! The tongue is a little member, so the best +thing people can do is to shut up, you take my tip! And _I_ broke it +off, mind you! There's as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it, +without girls making themselves cheap, and if he ever wants to know +I'll tell him straight--no drunks and black eyes for me! Not that I +don't forgive my enemies; I'm as good at that as the next one; but +when I'm engaged again it'll be to somebody who's TT absolutely, +though he does clean the knives!" Then, dropping her voice again, she +said equably: "Good-bye, dear--you will come again, won't you? I +sha'n't be going for a fortnight--the rooms aren't at liberty +yet--there isn't a sea view, but it isn't a minute from the Ramsgate +tram--you must come and stay with me----" + +Louie left her. Downstairs in the hall she had a few words with +Kitty's cousin. She asked when the engagement with Mr. Jeffries had +been broken off, and was told a year ago. Part of the time since then +Kitty had spent with another cousin, Alf Windus, who lived in Kilburn +and played the first fiddle at the Metropolitan in Edgware Road; part +she had spent at Alf's sister-in-law's at Wealdstone; and for the rest +of the time she had been at the Hickleys'. She was only a little +flighty at times, and Mrs. Hickley was too busy, what with breakfasts +at different hours and some liking one thing and some another, to pay +much attention to her. She would have taken her for nothing if she +could, but life was a struggle and business was business, and Mrs. +Hickley had been lucky enough to let her room for the time she would +be away at Margate. If Kitty really had anything to keep from her +cousin, apparently (Louie concluded) she had kept it. Probably Kitty's +condition (Mrs. Hickley added) was a result of the shock of Archie +Merridew's suicide, coinciding with her rupture with Mr. Jeffries. +Beyond that Mrs. Hickley minded her own business--plenty, too,---- + +"Thank you for coming," she said, opening the door for Louie. + +"I shall come again if I may," Louie replied. + +Already she knew that she would go again--must go again--though it was +only when she had left the house behind her that she began to ask +herself why. Then followed another dialogue. The critical Louie began +it. + +"Well, what did I tell you? His engagement's off, and he's getting on +in his business. I'm right so far, eh?" + +"Too right," the other Louie muttered. "Let it rest." + +"Will it let you rest--that's the question! Well, what do you want +next--his engagement to Evie Soames?" + +"I don't want anything. I've got my boy and my living to earn. That +fills my life." + +"Then why are you going to see Kitty again? Come, don't shirk it. You +know why you're going. You're going to----" + +"I'm not!" + +"You're going to protect him! If that poor creature thinks she +guesses, you're going to tell her the notion's perfectly absurd! +You're going to lie to her! If she has weak fancies, you're going to +see that they're just as wide of the truth as they can be. Do you +still deny what the truth is? After whatever the tale is he's been +telling about drunkenness and a black eye? _Is_ he that kind of man? +_Isn't_ that just as likely as not to be one of his blinds? A man has +to be cunning, you know, to hoodwink a coroner's jury, but somehow he +seems to have done it." + +"I don't know anything about it." + +"You mean you believe he hasn't done it? Then why are you going to see +Kitty again? Oh, don't pretend to me! I tell you you're going to +protect him. And why are you going to protect him? (Ah, I didn't think +of that before, but I see it now!) You'll love him a little more still +just for that! You'll love him because you have his safety in your +hands. You'll keep it in your hands. Even if you have to take Kitty to +live with you, so that you can watch her every spare moment, you'll +take care she never, never knows. You're planning it now. You're +going to have a right in that man no other woman on earth has, Evie +Soames or anybody else. And you're going to take him from Evie Soames +too, if you can!" + +The other attempted irony. "What, me? With my story?" + +"You only regret your story because it stands now in your way of +getting him! Would you marry Roy now even if you could gain a kingdom +by it? Why, you wouldn't before, let alone now! What are you going to +see Kitty again for--to-morrow? We shall see! Your nerves are all +a-jump at this moment; you don't feel it safe to leave here even for a +few hours! And another thing. Miriam Levey seems to be at his place, +wherever it is, and you're positively trembling about _that_! While +you're trying to worm things out of Kitty on the one side, she'll be +at the other--_you_ know what she is! So the first thing you'll do +will be to find out exactly what Kitty's got into her head." + +But here the normal Louie temporarily triumphed. "What a tale you're +making up!" she laughed. "These things simply do not happen. Actually, +you're trying to force it on me that I love a man simply because he's +committed a----" + +"Not simply because----" + +"Well, that I'm in love with a man who has committed one. Tell that to +the world, and see how you're laughed at!... Oh no, it's too much. +People don't do it, especially when it's guesswork, pure and +simple----" + +So she triumphed. The other Louie held her peace. + +But for all that she went to see Kitty again on the morrow. + + +II + +It was an error of judgment that caused Louie to leave the +photographer's in Bond Street. The money she owed to Buck and Chaff +was on her mind; she saw that Richenda Earle had been right; she was +not yet out in the open. She sought to diminish her indebtedness by +finding a better-paid post. + +The opportunity presented itself. She obtained, at a salary of three +pounds a week, the coveted secretaryship. Never mind to whom she +became secretary; he is now a renowned author; and Louie was with him +for just a fortnight. At the end of that time he offered to double her +salary. Louie's answer was to walk immediately out of his house. She +had now no job at all. + +The story of the pinch shall be passed over lightly. The boy did not +feel it; it was she who tightened her belt. Promising herself that it +was for the last time, she borrowed of Buck, and then removed to Edith +Grove, taking two small rooms in the same house as Myrtle Morris, the +model. But Myrtle had gone for the Christmas season into pantomime, +and as Louie was out all day, and asleep when Myrtle returned at +night, she saw little of her. She would have gone into pantomime too, +but she was too late, and still hoped for something better. Of +necessity Celeste remained with her; Celeste kept the place going with +her needle. This was at the beginning of 1898. February found her +again in a cash-desk, this time at Slater's. The desk had a mirrored +panel in the front of it that extended from the narrow counter to the +floor, and at first Louie wondered why clerks and shop-assistants put +down their money, stood back from the desk, and grinned. Then one +day, when somebody else was inside the box, she noticed the illusion. +The head and shoulders of the girl in the cage appeared to be +continued downwards by the trousers of a man. As she could not afford +to throw up her job, she continued to bear the grins disdainfully. +After her day's work she acquired from Celeste the art of crochet. Her +mats and table-centres and borders for teacloths went in with +Celeste's own work. + +Her improved French enabled her to pass, in April, from the cash-desk +at Slater's to one at a foreign restaurant in Soho. She still lived in +Edith Grove. For several weeks that summer she was again at Earls +Court, but with the reopening of the theatres she obtained a place in +the ladies' cloakroom at His Majesty's. One night she helped Miss +Elwell, the daughter of Sir James Elwell of the Treasury, off with her +cloak. She was unrecognised. She wondered how B. Minor was getting on. + +She was still at His Majesty's at Christmas 1898; but the New Year saw +her at still another place--a Ladies' Turkish Baths, in St. James's. +Buck, angry and disapproving of the whole course of her life, liked +this least of all; massage somehow brought it home to him. But there +was a worse shock still in store for Buck. In the spring of '99 Louie +became an artist's model. + +Myrtle Morris introduced her to the profession and to Roy's friend, +Billy Izzard, at the same time. This also was in Edith Grove. Billy +Izzard, whose large, boyish face and loose, shambling figure somehow +gave Louie the impression that he had either grown too quickly or else +not yet filled out, was telling Miss Morris, with a candour entirely +disarming, that for some purpose or other her own form was no good at +all; and Miss Morris asked him why he didn't try the Models' Club. He +snorted. + +"Try it? I have tried it; tried everything. Fact of the matter is, +it's like going to a Registry Office for servants; you find the rich +people have snapped up all the best before they get there. Old Henson +gets 'em. He's got the very girl I want; Miss Gale; but I can't pay +what Henson pays. And the rest of you are like that egg--good in +parts." + +Louie wondered whether Billy had ever heard her name before; she found +a way of making sure. The talk turned to holiday-places for the coming +summer, and Louie contrived to mention the Somerset coast and the +Bristol Channel. The unsuspecting Billy told her that he had once been +yachting there with a fellow and had had a smash-up. It was amusing. +According to Billy, the other fellow had rather fancied himself as a +patcher-up of broken centre-boards and suchlike, had put in at some +place or other, and had said he'd made the centre-board all right; and +he'd come pretty near drowning the pair of them off a place called +Combe Martin. Luckily they'd been spied by the coastguard, and a boat +had been put out to them. "Rottenest piece of navigation in England," +Billy grumbled on; "there's a place called the Boiling Pot----" He +described it.... + +Louie felt a little gush of gratitude towards Roy. He had not +chattered. But of course he would not---- + +She did not offer at once to sit to Billy; it was a fortnight later +that she screwed up her courage to do so. During that time she thought +the matter out. Perhaps the stark simplicity of the thing attracted +her. No acquirement she was ever likely to possess would greatly +improve her circumstances; it would probably be the same to the end of +the chapter--cash-desk, waitress, Earls Court--Earls Court, mannequin, +and a private secretaryship with an offer of double wages. At two +colleges she had learned little or nothing; she lacked application; +but here was something that quietly brushed acquirements +aside--something that went flagrantly by favour. It was femininity +reduced to its simplest statement. She had no fear of Billy Izzard. +She guessed that to him she would be little more than a more complex +whitewashed cube or cone or pyramid. + +She did not even colour when she made her proposal to him.... + +"But I expect you'll go off to old Henson or some other swell +presently," he sighed, as she stood before him.... + +And of course Chaff, barring her face that was best suited with a +large shady hat, had given her her testimonial long before. + +Buck was furious. The original, genuine Pilgrim of Love had reason +enough to know what happened in studios. Young women of high birth (in +Louie's case it would probably be a young man) began to take their +lunches there, and one day burst into jealous unhappy tears, and after +that the Pilgrimage began. But Louie only laughed at him. She reminded +him that she had reason to regard herself as a pilgrim too. At that +Buck looked hard at her. + +"Little woman," he said slowly, "d'you mean--that there is somebody?" +Louie laughed again, but more consciously. + +"Once or twice lately," Buck continued, still looking hard at her, +"I've wondered whether there might be----" + +"How can there be, daddy?" + +"Well, the other isn't befitting," said Buck, shaking his head and +returning to the original point. + +"My daddy did it." + +"Ah, men's different. For high ladies it--it isn't befitting." + +"I'm not a young girl, daddy." + +"No." Buck sighed. If he had only known her when she was a young girl! +But the whims of the Scarisbricks were still the Scarisbricks' whims, +and as such above his judgment. "But I want to see this Mr. Izzard," +he added grimly. + +"That you certainly sha'n't," Louie replied promptly. "Fancy your +taking me round everywhere I go!" + +"Everywhere?" Buck repeated, alarmed anew. + +"Of course. If it's a business it's a business. Why, Mr. Izzard alone +would be--dreadful! It's no good, daddy; you can't change my mind." + +He saw that he could not, but he still tried. It only delayed a little +her carrying of her point. In the end--well, she was her mother's +daughter. There was no more to be said. + +So she began to make the round of the Chelsea studios, and presently +moved, with Celeste and the boy, to more comfortable quarters in +Lavender Hill, Clapham Junction. This took her farther from her work +in Chelsea, but brought her nearer to the Lambeth and Westminster +Schools of Art, where also she obtained sittings, sometimes during +the day, sometimes in the evenings also. She sat for Billy when Billy +could afford to pay her. "No, no--no tick, Billy," she told him once; +"I don't do this for amusement." Of the boy Billy knew nothing.... +Buck, still strongly averse from the whole proceeding, at first +refused to hear her gossip of the day's work; but, as his silence did +not alter matters, little by little he began to come round. Soon they +exchanged experiences quite freely. He told her what Sopley had said +about his deltoid, Henson about his thigh. "You vain old daddy!" she +said, stroking his cheek, "I believe for two pins you'd do it again!" +She took a pleasure in fondly shocking him in the same sort. Sometimes +he mused long. You will admit that it was something to muse over. And +so--well, so Louie, throwing acquirements aside with her clothes, +became, by virtue of her peculiar commodity, economically emancipated. +As female models, women are eminently better than men. + +She did fairly well at it. So well did she do that from the three +rooms in Lavender Hill (the third one Celeste's) piece by piece her +landlady's furniture began to disappear. Her own took its place. She +intended, when she had enough of her own, to save the difference in +rent between furnished and unfurnished quarters by taking a small +flat. So her two chests of drawers and her wardrobe were her own; so +were much of her cutlery and bed and table linen; and so, of course, +were Jimmy's various paraphernalia. But she was not ready to leave +yet. The summer of 1900, she thought, would be early enough. + +And in one particular at least she was now able to hold up her head. +She still owed money both to Buck and Chaff, but she knew as much +about the struggle for a livelihood as Richenda Earle herself. And +she had not grizzled. Life had not knocked her out. She was her +father's daughter after all. + +And yet, once more, she felt herself her mother's daughter too. The +reason, which was not very far to seek, was this: + +The earlier stages of that furtive romance that in the end had left +her former husband no Rest but the Grave were known only to Mrs. +Chaffinger herself. Henson had not guessed them; Lord Moone had seen +only the resultant scandal of them. But Louie understood a little now. +She could at least guess what had happened to her mother between her +first setting eyes on the splendid Buck and that final petulant, +pathetic cry: "Oh, that I should have to beg a man to marry me!" By +sympathy she was able now to divine the sighs, the half-acknowledged +longings, the half-shamed daydreams, the revulsions, the sinkings back +again. For Louie now knew something of these things within herself. + +Not that there was not harder stuff in Louie. There was. There was, +for example, that sense of proportion which is humour. How could her +thoughts of Mr. Jeffries not be rather preposterous? She found it +difficult sometimes to remember even his personal appearance; she had +well-nigh forgotten his voice; many idle repetitions had dulled the +memory of that odd little thrill she had felt when her hand had lain +in his. True, she remembered these things in a way. She remembered the +tawny bulk of him, the lion's eyes, the gloss of his hair, the +modeless fashion of his speech; but these were mere noted facts, no +more hers than everybody else's. Yet what (she asked herself) had +become of her sense of humour that she should want something of him +that nobody else had? What had happened to her sense of proportion +that she did not forget him as she had forgotten scores of people of +whom she had seen far, far more? And how had it come about that, for +one thought she cast on Roy, Mr. Jeffries had twenty? And why this new +and curious understanding of her mother? + +She asked herself these questions behind the grilles of her +cash-desks, behind the counters of her Earls Court stalls, posing or +crocheting on her model thrones, riding backwards and forwards to her +sittings or what not on the tops of omnibuses. Usually she answered +herself more or less like this: + +"It looks very much as if I was making of him what he seems to have +made of that Soames girl--a sort of _idee fixe_; if I were to fall +really in love now, I suppose I shouldn't think any more about him. +Luckily it doesn't matter; it's my own affair. Good gracious, suppose +he knew! He'd think me as imbecile as I am!--There I go again!" (This +probably, some minutes later.) "Suppose I _had_ met him earlier, and +things _had_ been different--what about it? What's the good of +remembering all that now? Well, it puts the time on down this beastly +Kennington Lane.... Thank goodness I'm not likely to come across him; +I can't help thinking something would happen if I did.... Poor +mother!" she usually ended inconsequentially, "I suppose she'd be +about my age. I'm turned thirty--thirty-one in fact--shall have to +stop counting soon. Time you stopped counting when it occurs to you +that your mother had dreams just as silly as yours----" + +And so, whether this Mr. Jeffries meant much or little to her, he did +not mean so much but that any trivial near occurrence--a cold of young +Jimmy's, a cold of her own that prevented her from sitting for a day +or two, or a fall in the crochet-market--put Mr. Jeffries and the wild +and tangled ideas that seemed to cloak his image temporarily quite out +of her thoughts. + + * * * * * + +When early in the year 1900 she got regular sittings for a time with +an artist who lived in St. John's Wood, she never went up or down +Tottenham Court Road in the Victoria bus without half expecting to run +across Evie Soames, who lived in Woburn Place. Because she did not +meet her, she concluded that very likely she lived there no longer. +But, late on a windy afternoon in March, at about the time when the +street lamps were being lighted, she did meet her. + +It was opposite the Adam and Eve, in Euston Road, and on either of the +two women's parts there was a curious momentary hesitation. If Evie +Soames still lived in Woburn Place and was going home, the first bus +that came would do for her, and Louie had already seen her glance as +it approached; but as it happened, that bus was the Victoria bus for +which Louie herself was waiting. Louie spoke; it seemed to her that +not to speak would be to apologise, by silence, for that episode in +her career that had brought Kitty Windus in haste to the Nursing Home +in Mortlake Road. A large parcel she was carrying gave her an excuse +not to shake hands. + +"How do you do?" she said. + +Something, she could not have told what, had instantly drawn her eyes +to the girl's attire. Evie Soames was wearing a black jacket and black +fur cap, but the wind, turning the jacket aside, showed the narrow +black and white stripes of the blouse beneath. + +"Oh--fancy meeting you!" Evie said, turning her dark eyes as if she +had only that moment seen Louie. There was something in her manner +that Louie interpreted as meaning, "Very well, if I've got to be +cordial I'll _be_ cordial!" "Are you going by this bus?" she added. + +"Yes." + +"Oh! Where are you living now--Putney?" + +It may be that Louie met any slight the last word might have conveyed +half-way and more. She replied, a little shortly: "No, Lavender Hill; +I change at Victoria. After you----" + +"Oh no--after you!" + +Louie ascended; they couldn't stand on the kerb discussing points of +precedence. "Let's go in front," Evie said, "and then men won't smoke +on us," and they settled down. + +"Well," Evie said, adjusting the apron, "and how are _you_?" + +"Thank you," said Louie, "perfectly well." + +"There's room for your parcel here. Such ages since we met! Let me +see, when was it?" + +They discussed when it was, and then, "And have you seen Kitty Windus +lately?" Evie asked. + +Since her first visit to the Hickleys' Louie had seen Kitty perhaps +half-a-dozen times in all, not oftener. Kitty had been to Margate, +thence to Whetstone, and after that to Alf Windus the violinist's. +Louie had simply not been able to see her oftener; she had had far too +much to do. And, after all, nothing (the nothing of Louie's fears and +fancies) seemed to have happened. Except to herself (Louie guessed) +Kitty made no mysterious allusions to black eyes. She was merely +puzzled, pathetic, harmless. She had not that perilous thing, a +preconceived theory into which events had a fulfilling way of dropping +of themselves. So Louie replied to Evie Soames in a tone as casual as +her own: + +"Oh yes, I've seen her several times. Of course you heard that her +engagement to Mr. Jeffries was broken off?" + +"Oh yes," said Evie, looking straight in front of her. + +"Have you seen her, then?" + +"Oh no. But of course Mr. Jeffries himself would know, wouldn't +he?--that is, if you call it breaking off when a person just +disappears without saying where she is or anything about it. Don't +bother to unbutton; I have some pennies----" + +But Louie also had pennies. "Any more fares?" the conductor called, +and then went downstairs again. The two women fell into a silence. The +early lamplight came and went on their faces as the bus jogged on. + +Presently the silence seemed to have taken almost the character of a +contest as to who should speak next, with either resolved that it +should not be herself. Louie knew perfectly well what was the matter. +Miss Soames might speak glancingly of Mortlake Road and offer to pay +her bus fares, but really she hated Louie because of Louie's discovery +in the old ledger-room on that examination day that now seemed so long +ago. The girl seemed to be still in some sort of half mourning--but +Louie did not want to think much of that and all that it might mean. +Rather desperately, she strove to forget that she had ever had a +theory about what might have driven Evie Soames into black and of +what might happen when she went into colours again. She must, she told +herself sharply, have a hideous mind ever to have thought these +things. Indeed, she was so short with herself about it that, +relinquishing the contest of silence, she again made the small +immediate thing banish the large shadowy one behind. + +"Do you ever see Miriam Levey nowadays?" she asked suddenly. + +"No," Evie replied. At any rate she had not been the first to speak. + +"Oh? But aren't she and Mr. Jeffries at the same place now?" + +"Yes, I believe they are--in fact, I know they are. I suppose Kitty +told you?" + +"Yes." + +"Poor Kitty! But let me see: was Miriam at the office when Kitty came +to Mortlake Road? I thought it was after that she went." + +"I've seen Kitty more than once," said Louie, compressing her lips. +The bus was slowing down opposite the Oxford. + +"Ah, yes, you said so. Well, remember me to her when you see her +again, won't you? I get down here. I hope you'll get your parcel home +all right; it's rather a large one, isn't it? Good-bye." + +As Evie Soames's figure was lost in the crowd that jostled in the +lights of the Horse Shoe Louie did not look round. She was too angry. +"Good gracious!" she exclaimed, "the insupportable little creature! +Why, I never looked at one of my mother's housemaids so! _De haut en +bas_--her to me! But I did catch you that day, Miss Polly Ross, and +you know it!" + +But as the bus moved southwards again, she was trying once more to +forget that white stripe in Evie Soames's dress. She did not want to +think that anything had suddenly seemed to come a stride nearer. And +she would now rather not have been told, what apparently was the fact, +that, whether frequently or not, Evie Soames did see Mr. Jeffries. + +The parcel she was taking home contained a dress; she had been sitting +in it; but it was not the oyster-grey. The old oyster-grey, too, +served to bring her nearer to her mother and that weak flicker of +romance long ago in Henson's studio. Not for worlds would she have had +Celeste see the idiotic looks she sometimes gave that dress in which +she had danced with Mr. Jeffries. And sometimes she would suddenly +toss it aside, roughly, anyhow. She was not seventeen (she would tell +herself), to moon over a flower a man had given her or a dance +programme on which he had scrawled his name. She was a woman of turned +thirty-one (she rubbed it in), with her living to earn and an +illegitimate son to provide for.... But sometimes she was very wistful +too. She had never (she sighed) really been a girl of seventeen at +all; looking back, she saw that she had missed that. She blamed +nobody; no doubt she had been unruly, ill-conditioned, unmanageable; +still, she had missed that. The thought always sent her off into her +reveries again; and then, how differently, how much more admirably, +she was able to plan everything to herself! Over and over again she +built it all up, unbuilt it again, rearranged it, played with it. Had +she, as a girl of seventeen, met Mr. Jeffries--had this circumstance +been different, that particular not been the same--had she nursed no +grudge against her mother--had it been Mr. Jeffries, not Roy, with +whom she had kicked her long legs during the vacations at Mallard +Bois--had she, in a word, had the arranging of the world herself and +the choosing of the places she and he were to occupy in it---- + +"Bosh!" she usually cut herself abruptly off. "I shall be afraid of +turning a corner soon for fear of walking into the gentleman! What +shall I take in for supper?" + + * * * * * + +She did not know yet--indeed it was only some months later that she +learned it, but it is set down here--that already, at a Langham +Exhibition, Billy Izzard had one day seen a big stranger standing +before one of his sketches, had gone up and spoken to him, and had +liked the fellow--had liked his hewn slab of a face with the yellow +eyes in it so much that presently, having an old sketch he was never +likely to sell, he had given it to him. But Billy would at any time +rather give away a sketch to somebody he liked than sell one to +somebody he didn't like, and he still set, moreover, less than their +real value on those paintings of flowers that he "knocked off" in a +couple of keen and nervous hours. One of these sketches, by the way, +Louie herself coveted--a straggle of violets, a few white ones among +them, in a lustre bowl; and she offered a certain number of sittings +in exchange for it--another elementary example of the transaction in +kind. But Billy shook his head. He wanted that for a wedding present +for a fellow, he said. He'd give Louie another some time--after he'd +found another studio. He was sick of Chelsea; when a fellow got to +know the cracks in the flagstones it was time he moved. He thought of +going up north somewhere, Camden Town or Hampstead or St. John's +Wood--better air. So Louie could make up her mind to the bus-rides, +or else move too. He wasn't going to let Henson get hold of her. + +But Louie still delayed to move from Lavender Hill. + + +III + +Louie's adventures, as she continued to sit, would fill a book: but +not this book. Her sittings were the accidents of her life; her real +life she reckoned from Sunday to Sunday. Sundays were the blest days +she devoted to Jimmy. + +He was now nearly four years old, and (as Celeste continued +delightedly to exult) "existed" and "manifested" indeed. Louie herself +gave him her bath before she set out of a morning; she did so in a +waterproof and little else--why, the splashed condition of the +wall-paper in the poky little bathroom explained. It was the same old +waterproof she had worn at Rainham Parva. Buck's admiration of the +boy's chest and limbs was merely fatuous; he himself was teaching him +to swim at the Public Baths. He had announced to Louie, with a great +show of harshness, that the money she was fool enough to refuse, the +boy would have the benefit of; that at least was something she +couldn't prevent, he informed her, and though Louie scolded fondly +back, it was a weight off her mind. Chaff, the other grandfather, came +occasionally on Sundays; he came, for example, on the Sunday after the +opening of the Royal Academy. He brought a catalogue with him, and, +taking Louie into a corner, desired her to mark the numbers for which +she had sat. Whether the poor old fellow meditated the buying of them +all up, or what else, there was no telling. Her sittings, too, were +"just like Mops." Perhaps that was more than some of the pictures +were. + +But it is not true, as has been reported, that for Henson's last +picture, "Resurgam," Buck Causton and his daughter posed together. +Buck never posed after his first marriage. Louie only posed for Henson +once, and that was in wet drapery. She caught a pretty cold in +consequence. She exulted in that cold; it gave her three whole days +with little Jimmy. They played with tops and balls and soldiers on the +floor. The boy wanted an ensign's uniform, like that of the fourth +Lord Moone in the miniature, and Chaff bought him a dragoon's helmet +and cuirass. Buck laughed because the cuirass was already too small; +and then he sighed. Perhaps he remembered the suit of armour of Big +Hugo at Mallard Bois. + +Well, if a little money was all that was necessary, the boy could be +put into the army by-an-by. + +And so things might have gone on had they been destined to do so; but +into Louie's life of busy sitting and foolish dreaming and Sunday's +rompings with her boy, there came a disruptive force. Kitty Windus +brought it on a Sunday morning in early June. + +Celeste was reading a story to Jimmy when she walked in; Louie was +putting the last touches to a piece of crochet; and all three were +awaiting Buck's arrival with the trap--he was going to take them to +Hampton Court. She entered unannounced, and, to Louie's way of +thinking, would have been better in bed. Her face seemed unusually +small and thin; she spoke in a high, painful voice. + +"Louie, I want to see you--quick----" + +It was as if Louie too caught an instant alarm. Hurriedly she dropped +her just-finished crochet and rose. + +"What's the matter?" she asked quickly. "Come into my bedroom." + +In the quite prettily furnished little bedroom Kitty began to walk +rapidly to and fro. Once or twice she turned her looks to the +brown-papered walls, as if she expected to find texts there; for the +rest the blinking little eyes roved ceaselessly at about knee-height +from the floor. Then she stopped before Louie. + +"They're getting married in a fortnight," she cried harshly, +accusingly. + +There is no need for Louie to ask who, nor did she know what instinct +again, as before, bade her take up a definite attitude without a +moment's delay. She only felt in her very bones that delay would be +perilous, and that not the shade of an expression must cross her face +that was not natural and unsurprised. + +"Yes, of course; didn't you know?" she said quietly. "Mr. Jeffries and +Evie Soames, you mean?" + +Again Kitty made that painful little sound--_a bouche fermee_. "You +knew?" she cried. + +A simple lie would not have availed; this was so obvious that Louie +lied deliberately, circumstantially and at length. + +"Yes, of course I knew. Of course I did. Do you mean to say you +didn't? I made certain you did; I was going to write to you. In about +a fortnight, isn't it? I'm--I'm giving them a wedding present; +it's--it's that piece of crochet you saw me doing. It isn't much, but +these things don't go by value; it's the intention. What are you going +to give them?" + +She almost blushed for the lameness of it. As a matter of fact, she +had intended that piece of crochet for the new flat, when she should +take it; but to soothe Kitty now was of more importance than crochet +for new flats. She watched her covertly, anxiously. + +"How did you know?" Kitty flashed out, again stopping in her walk. + +"Sit down, dear; sit on the edge of my bed; I'm sure you're tired. How +did I know? Why, I saw Evie herself. I saw her on a bus one day in +Tottenham Court Road. It was near the Adam and Eve. And--I say, +Kitty"--dropping her voice confidentially, she made an appeal to +Kitty's hunger for gossip--anything for a diversion--"I doubt if +they'll have too much to live on--it takes a tidy bit to get married +on--and I don't suppose she has any shares to sell." + +But Kitty did not seem to hear. She flashed out again. + +"Why didn't you tell me?" + +"My _dear_! I made sure you'd heard it from Miriam Levey. And I wasn't +sure where you were; you move about so, you know. I wonder what Miriam +will give them! Something far more expensive than mine, I expect. And +you ought to give them something too, Kitty. What's done's done, you +know, and after all, lots of engagements are----" + +But once more Kitty flashed out. "Oh, _I_ shall give him a bottle of +arnica, or whatever it is, for black eyes!" + +Louie laughed almost hysterically at the joke. The tension was getting +almost too much for her. "Oh, come, he isn't a wife-beater yet!" she +protested. + +"But he will be, that man!" Kitty cried aloud with frightening +vehemence. "He'd do anything--anything--much he cares! Did you know I +got lost the other night? In Lincolns Inn Fields; policemen coming up +to me, if you please, and asking me where I lived! Much he cares! I +believe it was her all the time--he never wanted me at all, and as +soon as Archie's out of the way he goes and marries her! Miriam Levey +herself says she can't help thinking it's funny--and I can't think +what _your_ game is either, to be going on as if it wasn't! I'll tell +you what _I_ think, if you want to know----" + +"Hush, hush, hush!" came from Louie. She had her arms about Kitty. +"Perhaps you're right, dear; he was cruel to you! And"--she rushed +into another extemporisation--"I don't know that I would give him a +present, after all. If one can't forgive an injury one can't, and it's +no good pretending. He did wrong you, and perhaps he oughtn't to be +let off, after all. I won't send him one either." + +She said it because it was better to confine Kitty to her own wrongs +than to allow her to approach a number of frightening unknown +possibilities that began with black eyes. And apparently she +succeeded. Kitty fell back on her own injury, and became a little +calmer. + +"Oh," she said cunningly, "but you'd have to send yours, and Miriam +Levey'd have to send hers too--then, don't you see, I should be the +only one who didn't, and he'd notice it! I just hope he does notice +it. Serve him right. I wasn't as hard up for a fellow as all that--I +carried on with a fellow at that breaking-up party. I did--you ask Mr. +Mackie.... You _do_ think Jeff never intended to marry me at all, +don't you, Louie?" She peered curiously at Louie. + +Well, better that, Louie thought. "I don't think he meant to for a +single moment," she replied. + +"Oh, the _rotter_. Come on, let's send your present now. We'll show +him!..." + +She was quite eager about it; but Louie kept her in the bedroom a +little longer. Kitty began to speak of texts again. Again she wondered +why "Come" was written in green and "Unto" in red and "Me" in purple, +and why all texts had Oxford frames. "You haven't any, I see," she +said, glancing again round the brown-papered walls. "You ought to have +'Remember thy Creator,' you know, Louie; it always reminds you, you +see. What's this?" + +It was one of Billy Izzard's etchings. Kitty examined it with her head +a little on one side. + +"It's very nice, whatever it is," she conceded; "but where's the other +one? I always think pictures look better in pairs. But you can get odd +ones cheap sometimes; Mr. Mackie had a great sale of Art Engravings +one day in one of those Oxford Street places--you can hear his voice +right across the street--and _he_ said they were cheap because they +weren't pairs, but they'd do splendidly for the middle of anywhere, +like over a mantelpiece. And what a nice looking-glass! Really, you're +quite comfortable here!" + +She seemed to have forgotten all about Mr. Jeffries again. She walked +round Louie's bedroom, bestowing encomiums and preening herself on her +own pound a week. + +At midday Buck came, but Louie did not join the party; she sent +Celeste and Jimmy, and herself stayed with Kitty. She hoped Kitty +would not stay long; she wanted to lie down and think--think. Nor did +Kitty stay very long; but before she went she returned to the subject +of the crochet. She wanted the article--it was a teacloth--sent +immediately; she would run out and post it herself, she said; and +_then_, when he got presents from Miriam and Louie and none from +herself, _that_ would be rather a nasty one for Mr. Jeffries! + +"Do pack it up. _I'll_ show him I'm not to be trampled on like the +dirt under his feet!" she persisted vindictively; and another approach +to the subject of black eyes caused Louie to yield hurriedly. She +folded the cloth and found a piece of brown paper; Kitty did not +notice that she enclosed no message. + +But suddenly Louie had an odd little hesitation. She knew it to be +ridiculous and a sentimentality, but while she did not want to send a +particular message, she yet did not want to send the teacloth entirely +without one. The opportunity for the little secret luxury would +probably not occur again.... Kitty was condescendingly appraising her +furniture again; on the mantelpiece lay a piece of blank card; it +seemed to be there almost for a purpose, and furtively Louie took it. +She scrawled an "L" upon it and slipped it into the parcel. + +A few minutes later Kitty left, taking the wedding present with her. + +Left at last alone, Louie once more went into her bedroom and threw +herself on her bed. She lay with her hands clasped behind her head, +her gaze now resting on Billy's etching, now straying idly over the +brown-papered walls. + +So they were to be married. And after that? + +Well, she thought that on the whole she was glad. The curtain was +about to fall on that drama that had begun at the Business School in +Holborn, and so there would be an end of _that_.... What now? What +about those fancy pictures with which she had beguiled herself as she +had ridden on buses and trams and worked at her crochet during the +rests? What about those half-whispered, nonsensical conversations? +What about those drowsy, secret quarters of an hour out of which she +had come with slight starts to smile at herself? They were to be +married. What next? + +The answer came as if for months it had been merely awaiting her +pleasure. It was as plain as day that she could now have as much of +these as ever she pleased. For what it was worth, the freedom of her +cuckoo-cloud-land was about to be definitely made over to her. Because +nothing else was hers, that was all the more hers.... Kitty's tidings +brought it so sharply home to her that she forgot that those sweet +hours of licence were no new thing. She forgot that it was no new +thing to walk, in fancy, the woods of Mallard Bois and the lanes of +Rainham Parva with him by her side, no new thing to call his name down +the remembered glades--"Jim!" (not, as others called him, "Jeff"). She +forgot that it was old and outworn already; she saw in it only newness +and liberty and delight. A Jim of sorts was now hers, ineluctably and +for ever--a Jim who did not fool predestined spinsters--a Jim who +would know better than blunder into a blind and stupid marriage--a Jim +whose relentless hand had not--had not--had not---- + +But here, as she paused, the colour that had made her cheeks rosy +ebbed as if a brush loaded with white had been passed over them. His +ruthless hand had--had--almost certainly had---- + +It was as if, in her fancy, a prison bell had tolled and a black flag +had been run up in the morning breeze---- + +He was certainly a murderer; over the threshold of that hideous fact +she must step before she could enter her palace of insubstantial +delights. Stained she must take even the phantom of his hand, or not +at all. Suppose the joy were to leave her, but the horror to remain? + +She closed her eyes. + +But she opened them again. She faced it. Say he was--that; what then? +The joy and the horror were fatally one. A man capable of +all--all--even of that--and her lover! Oh, the moment the shudder had +passed the worst was over! He had killed; yes, but for a cause! He had +been horribly to be feared; yes, but without the dread of him too she +would not have had the whole of him, and she wanted the whole of him. +_Not_ kill, with such a reason? Withhold death, with something +approaching that was worse than death? Oh, Louie knew all about that; +Miss Cora had told her.... + +A murder? There were things by the side of which a murder, once you +had made up your mind to it, was a trifle! + + * * * * * + +Are women so? Is it so that they will place their soft hands, like +willow-leaves, in those other hands that may be black with dreadful +work, red with destruction, yet, seeing less than man and more than +man, they care not? Is it so that they will set their lips, as if for +a kiss, against the mouth of war itself with its ten thousand deaths? +It seems to be so. Their loved ones, when they die, do not do so of +fevers and shattered tissues, but of their own clear and trusted +heroism. "Go," they say to the next one, even to the little Jimmy, +"go--and come back if you may--and, though wooden props keep you +together, you shall be beautiful to the mother who bore you--to the +wife whose task it must be to take you to pieces and put you together +again--to the woman who, because of her own heavenly dreaming, cannot +think of the fiend you were in that hour when the call sounded and you +dropped the point of your lance to the charge." + + * * * * * + +But one thing was clear: her dreams must remain dreams. If she would +keep what was left her, she must never, never, never see him now! + + + + +PART V + +THE CONSOLIDATION + + +I + +The habit of sitting for artists leaves its mark on a woman. This mark +is the lack of mystery--the "looked at" appearance. But it has its +compensations. Chief of these are a physical unconsciousness, an +absence of coquetry, and a liberation of the mind so complete that a +sudden recall has all the effects of shock. Thus, a model posing for a +whole class of men has been known to faint because she has been seen +through the skylight by a "man" who mended the roof. + +In some such state of liberation Louie, on an afternoon late in the +June of 1900, posed for Billy Izzard. It was in Billy's new studio, a +large upper room in Camden Town, opposite the Cobden Statue. The place +was so light that Billy had actually had to cut some of the light off. +The upper part of the far window, that towards which Louie's face was +turned, was darkened by a linen blind; the lower part of it was +shrouded with tissue paper. The whole corner was enclosed by a screen. +It was there that Billy did his etching. Behind another screen was +Billy's bed. At present Louie's clothes lay on it. + +It was half-past five, but the best light of a changeable day. They +had had tea; the tray with the tea-things lay on the floor; and, +except that he grunted occasionally, "Raise your hand a bit," or "Head +a bit more round," Billy's absorption in his work was complete. He had +even worked through the short rests. During these intervals Louie had +crocheted. The crochet, only a little whiter than the foot near it, +lay on the throne now. + +Louie was not thinking; you can hardly call it thought when any trifle +on which your eyes rest gives your mind its cue. Louie's eyes, the +only parts of her that moved, had rested on the crochet, and that had +brought Celeste into her mind. Celeste was leaving her; it had +something to do with phylloxera and a brother's vines; Celeste, +between two loves, must leave the boy and return to Provence. Then +Louie's eyes fell on the chair in which Billy etched, and presently +Kitty occupied her--Kitty, who liked her etchings in pairs, but +surmised that odd ones came cheaper. Louie had really no choice but to +do what she was going to do about Kitty. Jimmy must have somebody +during the day, and Louie, moreover, must have ten shillings a week +from somewhere. As a matter of fact, Kitty had agreed to pay her +fifteen shillings, and, in the intervals of looking after Jimmy, +proposed to type. Then, as her eyes moved to the screen round the bed, +she remembered that her boots must be resoled. They would carry +another sole, and it had been raining off and on during the greater +part of the day. And then something else brought little Jimmy into her +mind again. + +For a wonder, she had not thought of a bigger Jimmy all the afternoon. +But on other afternoons she had. Billy sometimes remarked on a passing +tender colour; she always had to restrain a smile at that. Her tender +colour? There was not a particle of that looked-at superficies of hers +that, often and often, did not answer to a secret thought.... Perhaps +Billy, plain common-sense man, could have told her what those secret +thoughts really meant. Perhaps Billy, sensitive painter, could have +told her how sweet and pale and charming things must shun comparison +with the robuster stuff. As, in some delicate pastoral or _fete +galante_, art might turn its happy eyes inward on itself, so that the +putting on of a slipper and the nymph's hand trembling in a silken +fold and the promised favour of a smiling look hardly die because they +hardly live, so Louie too turned her eyes inwards. What she found +within herself still sufficed her. + +"Better rest a bit," said Billy, looking up as he began to scrub in a +background. + +Louie stepped down from the throne, cast a wrap about her shoulders, +and began to crochet again. + +Again she hoped she was not doing an unwise thing in having Kitty to +come and live with her. But the flat was at last taken. It was a top +one in the New King's Road. A Board School now blocks out the pretty +view that Louie presently had at night, of the distant cupful of light +that was Earls Court, with the illuminated advertisement of the Big +Wheel appearing and disappearing as the structure slowly turned. Well, +Kitty's fifteen shillings would pay the rent, and the experiment would +be a good thing for Kitty also. Louie had furniture enough--in fact, +it would be a very good thing--all round. + +"Come along--time," Billy grunted. "And I say, can you stop a bit +later to-night? I've got to go out, but if I don't finish this thing +to-day I never shall----" + +Louie mounted the throne again, and again the silence was broken only +by Billy's stepping back from his canvas and forward again. + +The light began to fail, and Billy began to work the more furiously. +"Give me just another ten minutes," he muttered, a brush between his +teeth; "this'll make some of 'em sit up, I think; it's _painting_, +this is!... But I don't know, perhaps I'd better let it go as it is; +it's a job, anyway. All right, Louie, thanks.... Right-o, Jeffries; I +didn't think it was so late." + +The last words were spoken to the man who had knocked at the door and, +without waiting for a reply, walked in. + +Louie had heard the steps on the stairs; perhaps--she could not +tell--she had already thought it unusual that the steps had not +stopped at the water-tap on the landing below that was the supply for +the two upper floors. Billy used that tap when he washed his brushes; +he was looking for his palette-knife now. + +But Louie neither saw Billy nor heard his grumblings because the knife +was not to hand. She was looking past Billy, past the easel with the +study upon it, at the man who had entered. For one moment she was +wondering that she had not always known, not only that he would come +some day, but that he would come that day; the next moment she had +told herself that she had always known that. + +Of her whole body, from the foot near the crochet to the last brown +hair of her head, her lips were the only portion that did not receive +him with a lightsome, quiet, fair, trusting smile. + +Absurd ever to have supposed that they would never meet! Wise to have +known so perfectly what would happen when they did! + +What had happened? Oh, every particle of her seemed to sing to every +other particle what had happened! Those pittings of her profession? +Oh, there they went, washed out, all out, in the baptism of a look! +Her fancies--those idle promises to pay drawn on a non-existent bank? +Oh, they had gone, and here was payment itself, the solid, actual +cash! She was suddenly rich. As she stood there, rich in seeing him, +rich in being seen by him, every one of those worthless bills was +honoured in full. She could have laughed at her past poverty. She +could have cried aloud: "Jim, I'm here--look at me--no, not my eyes +only----" + +And he too seemed to be as she had always known he would be--singled +out, down to his very manner of wearing his clothes--among men. +Stupid, that of all those times she had thought of him she had never +once thought of him as in evening-dress! But that, in all this +perfection, was only one more reciprocated perfection: she so--he +so---- + +"Oh, Jim--_not_ my eyes only!" she well-nigh cried again. + +But the lion's eyes never moved from her own grey ones. + +"Right, Louie, I've finished," said Billy, looking up from his +palette-scraping. + +And within herself she wailed: "Oh, _so_ soon? Must it be over +already? Must I sit for men all these days, and then, when _my_ man +comes----? Oh, a moment!... Well, he shall see me move--and I won't +look at him--I'll tell myself--oh, just one more fancy!--that he isn't +here." + +She descended from the throne and passed behind the screen. + +Was it strange that already, as she dressed in Billy's studio, she +knew that she would never dress in an artist's studio again, and made +of her fastening of hooks and strings a grave little +ceremonial?--(There! With that fastening yet another chapter was +closed; oh, trust her, there should be no reopening of it!)--Or that +she should have a little shiver, at the thought that he might not have +come? Suppose he had knocked at the door, and Billy had cried: +"Half-a-moment--slide, Louie--come in!" Suppose--but the tremor +passed. She had always known he would come; she had known it just as +she had known everything else about him. Again every fibre of her was +joyous. She was here on the earth--she, Louie Causton, daughter of a +pugilist and of a Scarisbrick, gardener, typist, artists' model, and +all else she might ever be--that she might know all about this man. To +have ever doubted it would have been not to deserve him. And here he +was, in the same room with her--he, beyond the screen, she behind +it--only the two of them, for Billy had gone down to the tap to wash +his brushes. + +_Now_ what should she do? + +No, she would not go out and join him; not as she now was; not a skirt +and blouse, after that fairness. Nor yet would she speak. Surely it +was for him to speak now! She had been speaking to him, singing to +him, all music to his eyes; there does come a point (she told herself) +when the woman ceases to do everything; he must speak now. She knew he +would speak. So she stood, upright, close to the screen, waiting. + +He did speak, and like smoke another flock of fancies fled for ever. +They were the fancies in which she had tried to remember his voice. It +came, henceforth unforgettable, pure rest after her strivings. He too +seemed to be near the screen; only a screen between them; but the +phrases that were breaking their long silence were merely automatic. +He was saying something about seeing her presently; she heard him +pronounce the word "Piccadilly," and the most familiar image of +Piccadilly sprang up in her mind. "Swan and Edgar's," she was +whispering back over the screen. + +"No, no." This came quickly, protestingly. + +"At half-past ten," she whispered. + +"Yes." + +Then the dialogue was at an end. Billy had returned. Some moments +later she heard more words, a laugh, and the closing of a door. She +realised that he had gone. + +Only then did she come out from behind the screen. + +Billy was wriggling into his overcoat and muttering something about +being late. "Got to go and keep that chap's wife company," he said. +"Regular little Philistine, she is; I suppose that's why I go; can't +stand these blessed artists. I say, he'd no idea I'd a model, you +know--sorry." + +"All right, Billy," said Louie demurely.... "Sorry!" So was not she! + +"And I say, I'm afraid I shall have to pay you next time. I'm cleaned +out." + +"It doesn't matter. Send me a steak in as you go out; I'll have my +dinner here." + +"Right. Odd-looking chap that, isn't he? A good sort though. I picked +him up at the Langham one night. I took this place from him when he +got married." + +"He lived here?" (What, another wonder?) + +"Yes. Well, I'll send your steak in. Good-bye." Billy bolted. + +He had lived there too! How ex--how entirely to have been expected! +Louie walked round the room, looking at the walls, the ceiling, out of +the windows, anew. He had lived there: read, eaten, slept there; what +a coinci--what a perfectly natural circumstance! Then, leaning against +the wall, she found Billy's study. Her eyes devoured it. She set it +against the throne, and then walked to where he had stood when he had +entered. She gave a rich, low laugh; she told herself what a fool she +was; but folly so lovely made life. Again she looked at the wet +painting. She had looked so to him---- + +She put the study back against the wall, but in another place. "That +study's mine, Billy," she muttered; "mine, not yours or anybody +else's, do you understand? You gave him my violets; he's welcome to +them; this belongs to me. Jim! Jim!" she murmured. + +"Well, I suppose it's crochet now," she went on by-and-by. "Do you +realise, Louie Causton, that you've sat your last? And have you any +idea of what you're going to do instead? It looks as though Kitty's +fifteen shillings would come in useful after all." + +As if otherwise she might have forgotten it, she repeated to herself, +over and over again, that she was to meet him at Swan and Edgar's at +half-past ten. At one of the repetitions--it was as she was cooking +her steak over the little gas-ring that, perhaps, had once been +his--it occurred to her why he had muttered that quick "No, no," when +she had proposed that meeting-place. She glowed, she laughed through a +sheen of tender tears. "Dear, dear one! _You_ don't think that corner +good enough for us, my sweet little outcast and me. Well, we won't +thank you; we won't belittle him by thanking him, will we, Jimmy?----" + +But she did not promise not to look her thanks when she met him at +Swan and Edgar's at half-past ten. + +Presently she pushed her plate away; she could not eat. She had felt +her bosom rise once more. It had risen as it had never risen for +anything or anybody save for the little Jimmy, and it rose, it seemed +to her, for a similar reason. For in her hands even his physical +safety lay. He was to be mothered too. Her unfelt arms were to be +about him, the milk of her protection to be his life. By his strength +he had thought to give himself to somebody else, but by his need he +was still hers. A gladness richer than she had ever, ever known +swelled within her. He, the great weakling--she, the strong one, to +cherish and support---- + +"Jim!" she murmured, smiling, uplifted, lost. It was as if his weary, +tawny head was on her breast. + +And she was going to hear his voice again, at Swan and Edgar's, at +half-past ten. + +She feared that her own emotion might have exhausted her ere ever the +hour came. + + +II + +"Your hat will be spoiled if you don't take your share of the +umbrella," she said. It was a silk hat, and she supposed that silk +hats cost money. A fine, persistent rain was falling. + +She thought that he answered that it didn't matter. + +"Then you might at least turn your trousers up." Her own shabby old +grey coat didn't matter, but his trousers---- + +He seemed to be on the point of replying that they didn't matter +either, but changed his mind. He stooped and turned them up. She held +the umbrella while he did so, and then gave it to him again, +replacing her right hand where it had been--on his left forearm. + +It was on these mere externals of him--his hat, his coat, his +trousers, his boots--that she had hardly for a moment ceased to feed +her eyes. Anything else might wait; for the present the stuff of his +sleeve was more to her than the stuff of his soul. She luxuriated +shamelessly in the smallest actualities of his presence; why, even +mirth stood but a remove away. His overcoat, for example: it was not +that old tawny one that had made him so much like a lion, but it was +an old one for all that; was she _never_ to see her man in a new +overcoat? Jim and his overcoats! But the rest of him was beyond +criticism. Certainly he must be making money. She wished she could +have called money to him with a wand, conjured it to him, as much as +ever he wanted. Had it not been that she would have had to take her +hand from his sleeve, she would have liked to step back to look at his +great church-door of a back again. Of his face she could see little, +but that did not prevent her looking until it would hardly have +surprised her had he flushed and said, "Don't gloat over me like +that." His hat was tilted down, the large peaks of his overcoat collar +projected like wings. + +No, she did not want to know what he thought or felt; bother all that +part of him! When her thirsty senses had drunk their full, then would +be time enough for the other things. + +They were walking somewhere behind the Horse Guards. Stretching before +them was the long, empty avenue of the Mall. She was looking at the +perspective of lamps and trees and drizzle, when suddenly he spoke. +Instantly all her faculties seemed to become one overgrown faculty, +that of hearing. Not that he was saying anything; he was, as a matter +of fact, only asking her whether she was warm; and she replied, +"Quite." She was almost amused that he should ask. His nearness warmed +her more than did her garments. Her hand thrilled deliciously on his +sleeve again.... + +Oh, the satisfaction of that, just that, after all her past +inquisitions into his soul! + +But come to speech they must, and that very soon; and perhaps that +curious magnification of trifles made it easier. Indeed, half the +formidableness of the single question she wanted to ask him had +vanished already. To say to him, now or in a few moments: "Did you +kill Archie Merridew?" seemed somehow not very much more unusual than +asking him the time. Now that she came to think of it, even that +question seemed less important than another one: "Can you kill +somebody and still be happy?" She hoped in her heart that he could. It +would be his justification. Had it been an unrighteous killing, that +would have been another matter; as it was, she would have had him +unhappy only had he not killed. And, as he showed no sign of breaking +silence, she might as well ask him that now. + +So, reluctantly turning her eyes from his face and looking ahead into +the haze of the rain, she suddenly said: "Are you happy?" + +She wasn't surprised that he didn't reply at once. Of course men +didn't. They had their usual formalities to go through, of "Why do you +ask?" and so forth--a sort of routine before they could answer a plain +question. As he began to go through it now she made a little impatient +movement. She didn't want all that. Then he deigned to reply to her +inferior intelligence. Yes, he was happy. + +"You _are_?" she said, with an exultant little leap. + +Yes, he was; but again, apparently, he couldn't say a thing and leave +it. In the middle of more stupid, logical, masculine things (he seemed +to be qualifying his statement with something or other about his +conduct to Kitty Windus) she cut him short. + +"Tell me," she said, repeating the little impatient gesture, "you +killed that boy, didn't you?" + +They had been following the railings that divided the Mall from St. +James's Park, but she had stopped to ask her question. And she was +looking full at him now. But she could not see him very well; a lamp +and a plane-tree made all an obscurity of vague shadows and wet +reflections. But then he stepped slowly back, taking her umbrella with +him, and twice, as he held the umbrella unsteadily, the light came and +went on his cheek and chin; and then, as he took a step farther back +still, the umbrella bobbed on the railings, from the points of it came +little bright slivers of drops, and she found herself searching under +a lamplit sector of alpaca for his eyes. + +The danger of asking, actually, a question you have asked, but not +actually, a hundred times before, is that your own mere familiarity +with it throws you out in your calculation. Now she found herself +suddenly hoping that what she felt to be working beyond the umbrella +edge--for she felt it rather than saw it--was not fear. + +For, of course, she had miscalculated a little--had been stupid to +think that it was all as old a story to him as it was to her. +Obviously it would not at once occur to him that there had been +nothing to find out, but that instead the whole thing had been merely +enacted before her eyes; he was sure to be thinking that on some +point of evidence he had been betrayed. What sort of point that could +be, unless it had something to do with the black eyes that seemed to +haunt Kitty, he might know, but she could not guess; and all at once +she had a purely physical shrinking. She would rather not know. She +could string herself up to the thought of murder, but the bestial +details--no, not those. Those were his affairs. They were to be taken +for granted as things necessarily involved. And already she was on the +point of feeling herself a little disappointed in him. For in the +shadow of the umbrella her eyes had now found his; his head was a +little turned, and she saw the whites of them. + +It _was_ fear. She, it seemed, could contemplate unafraid a sacrifice +that he quaked to have carried out. + +But as, with another little falling of drops from the umbrella, he +steadied himself and stepped forward from the railings again, +additional light came to her. It was fear, but not that fear, that +haunted the amber eyes. The fear was of herself. He feared, not the +information she possessed, but her whole understanding and +condemnation. He feared lest she also should say: "It was murder; you +are here to be judged; me too, with all the world, you must account +against you; I set my mark too upon your brow." + +And as he appeared sorrowfully to acquiesce in that also, nothing +could have seemed lonelier nor more touching than the quietly spoken +words with which he held the umbrella over her again: + +"You're getting wet." + +It was as though he told her that though he went outcast she must not +get wet. + +Her answer was to put her hand under his sleeve again. They walked on. + +But he had not answered her question. Perhaps he thought he had: to +all intents and purposes he had; but she wanted, not so much the word, +as that he should not withhold the word. He was walking slowly, +heavily, like a tower by her side; she had the sense of his fearful +overweight; she would give him time. They continued to walk, their +mingled shadow on the pavement as they passed each lamp creeping away +before them as if the beam of some lighthouse had had the sinister +property of obscurity. + +Then, within a little distance of Buckingham Palace, she stopped +again. Again their eyes met under the wet, black mushroom of the +umbrella. + +"You did kill that boy, didn't you?" + +He had a slight start. It seemed to her that he even apologised for +having kept her waiting for the answer. Formerly she had seen +stratagems in his eyes; now, as he dipped the umbrella for a moment +and stood full in the light of another lamp, she looked only into +grave, candid depths. + +"Yes," he said. "You know I killed him." + +"Ah!" + +Again her hand slid, as if of itself, back into its place. Again they +walked on. The next thing that came to her was another ridiculous yet +oddly precious trifle. She wore kid gloves; before, when she had +danced with him in an old frock of oyster-grey, she had worn white +ones; must she (she wondered) always wear gloves with him, as he +always wore old overcoats? She longed to take one glove off; yet +she--she, who had met Roy by the stile at night--for very bashfulness +dared not. The circumstance struck her; how was that? Gifts of +understanding for her he had: had he that gift too, the gift of her +own bashfulness back again? Up went her spirit on wings.... + +Yes, it was that--or for a night at least she would have it so. As +impossibilities are reconciled in a dream, so he seemed, by his mere +towerlike presence, to resolve in one large atonement, her own life as +it had been and the sweet and virginal and dear smiling thing that it +might have been. In no less a miracle than that she seemed to herself +to be walking. He could not only have kissed her; he could have had +her first kiss. He could not only have turned, as he did turn, leaning +against the pillar-box by the Equerries' entrance of the Palace, to +look at her again, but he could have received in return--did receive +in return--such a look as she knew he also could hardly have had the +like of before. And it made no difference--as in a dream such a thing +might make no difference--that he had a wife, she a son. Let him have +his wife, she her son; she could find room for wives and sons too. +To-morrow, perhaps, it would not be so; to-morrow might be like +yesterday again; but to-night--to-night--oh, the first garden was not +less trodden than these rainy streets, the Barracks, Gorringes', and +Grosvenor Road! Her hand moving again on his sleeve was telling him +even now, if he would but listen, that though man may not know that it +is not good for him to be alone, woman knows it, and maybe still +remembers it out of her knowledge of the place whence she came later +than he. + +And he too understood now, for she was not so rapt but that she +remembered that he asked her, somewhere between a sandbin and a street +lamp, whether she was happy too, and that, looking up at him, she +smilingly whispered: "Yes, now." And she was not so rapt but that she +remembered telling him, flatly and with another happy and laughing and +triumphant look: "You can't prevent it!" But she was so rapt that of +much else that he and she said she had no very clear recollection. +Words that seemed unforgettable when they came had eluded her almost +in their own echo. But she knew that she gave him the liberty of +herself with no more reserve than she had claimed that of him. She +knew that because, later, but she did not know when, he muttered, in +some street or other, she did not know where: "God bless your boy." + +Well, if she forgot things now, there would be many days to come in +which she would remember them. + +Merely because it must be very late--she had no idea what time it +was--she grudged the going of the moments almost angrily. Already she +was becoming as hungry again as if she had not broken that long, long +fast. But she admitted that it was not unnatural that he should think +of his own concerns a little too, and want to ask her questions. She +began to answer the questions hurriedly, to get them over.--Kitty +Windus? Oh (she told him) he might leave Kitty to her; she'd answer +for Kitty!--His wife and her complete ignorance? (His wife's ignorance +appeared to be complete.)--Miriam Levey? (Oh, why would he not be +quick, and she so hungry!)--And then back to his wife again; what +about her? (he wanted to know). Louie wondered a little that he should +consider her to be his wife's keeper also, but she answered his +questions. That, she told him, was his private affair; but, if he +really wanted to know what Louie thought about it, Louie could not +conceive of a marriage with so huge a secret in it continuing +undisclosed. _Voila_; there he had it; and _now_ might she please be +permitted to enter into her own happiness again? + +She was back into it, bathing in it again, almost before she was +aware. A minute before she had not known what street they were in; now +she saw the Chelsea Hospital on the other side of the road. On this +side was a row of houses; she knew one of them; a painter for whom she +had sat lived there; his studio was in the yard at the back. The +thought of a studio was all that was needed. She thrilled again. + +No more studios! So poignantly did she burn that she could hardly +imagine that her glowing did not communicate itself. Studios, after +that beautiful, beautiful sketch of Billy's? Good gracious, no! She +was going to Billy's to fetch that sketch on the morrow; she would +like to see Billy deny it to her! And that poor, poor old oyster-grey! +Just because he had seen her in it once she had mooned over it, smiled +over it, sighed over it; but it could go now--she had a richer +memory!... Furtively during the last few minutes she had been working +off her right glove; it slipped from her hand to the pavement; but she +was afraid to stop. Let it stay; somebody would turn it over with the +point of a walking-stick in the morning and perhaps wonder who had +lost it.... She stole another look at him; her hand crept along his +sleeve; the tips of her fingers were on his wrist; her lips shaped his +name: "Jim!" + +Then, unexpectedly, it rushed upon her in full measure. She knew these +streets familiarly; they were in Swan Walk now; and the thing happened +all in a moment. Again, during those anxious questions of his about +Kitty Windus, Miriam Levey, his wife, she had that sense of his +terrible overweight: now, passing a doorway, he suddenly reeled. He +began to sink.... + +In an instant her arms were about him. Not the unfelt, immaterial arms +of her mothering vision in Billy's studio, not that other breast, +offered but impressed, sustained him; she held him within her two arms +of flesh and blood, upon that firm, warm bosom that changed its shape +to his weight upon it--the bosom he had seen yesterday, white hives, +all their honey his.... She bent and kissed the shoulder of his coat. +Oh, if he might but faint, quite, that she might carry him somewhere, +or, if she could not carry him, stay with him where he was--she cared +not--rest by his side through an endless night! Her heart, yes, her +lips too, called him; a whisper might not reach him; she called him +aloud: + +"Oh, come, come! Come, come!" + + * * * * * + +Afterwards she thought of it as a hail from a ship to another ship +across a stretch of water so narrow that it was all but a stepping +aboard. How could such a hail be a farewell also? They were not +passing; as they glided side by side together, either seemed +stationary. Other things, the whole offing of Life, were in motion; +these slipped past, as it were sky, shore, shipping; but for a space +he and she spoke from bridge to bridge. And he heard the hail too, for +he opened his eyes. Though they never looked on her again they did so +now, relinquishing all to her. Was there anything she had not known? +There was nothing she might not know--now---- + +By-and-by she had helped him to a seat on the Embankment and had made +him sit down. She took off his tie and collar; she smiled as he +thanked her. "That was absurd," he said. + +Then he asked her where she lived. + +It was over. + +Well, perhaps more would have been more than she could have borne. + +But when she sat at last alone in the hansom he had called, conscious +that she was wet to the skin and that her boots needed to be resoled, +she still had the image of the ships before her eyes, gliding together +side by side, with all else in quiet, relentless motion behind them. +She held fast to it. She could not have endured to think that of that +night's long wandering all that would remain on the morrow would be +yet another dream and a wet glove left behind in an empty Chelsea +street. + + +III + +Louie Causton would have been more than human had she not frequently +thought, as her life became a moving from pillar to post again, that +there was an exasperating proportion of absence in her heart's story. +But at first she was not petulant. Some absences are brimful, as other +presences are mere vacancy, and, now that she no longer sat, she had +other things, plenty of them, to think of. + +There was little money in the sale of crochet; there was not much more +in sitting in costumes hired from the Models' Club. From both these +things she quickly turned. Perhaps she turned from them the more +quickly because of Kitty Windus--for Kitty was now with her in the +flat in the New Kings Road, and the way in which Kitty, without +spoken words, paid over her weekly fifteen shillings, was in itself a +spur. Not that Kitty always spared her the words either. Two words at +least that she did not always spare her were "rise" and "permanency." +Often Louie felt all the amazement, and now quite without any leaven +of amusement, that she had felt when first she had entered the +Business School in Holborn; but she was not keeping Kitty (or Kitty +keeping her) either for love of Kitty or her own mere necessity. To +keep Kitty was part and parcel of that absence she was already +beginning to resent. It was merely safer to keep Kitty than to have +anybody else keep her. Besides, as long as she kept Kitty, she had +only to write a note, justifying it afterwards as best she could, and +two ships (so to speak) would come together again. She delayed to +write the note; none the less it was in her power to do so. + +So (to turn for a moment to that moving background of Life in the +offing) the September of 1900 found her answering the advertisement of +a Bayswater seedsman and discovering the precise market value of her +old Rainham Parva training. But by the end of the same month she was +temporarily installed at the clerk's table of an exhibition of French +paintings at a Mayfair gallery, and glad of the job. Say (the question +is hardly worth going into) that it was the influence of the paintings +themselves that once more caused a manager to propose that Louie's +wages should be substantially increased, for a consideration; it +didn't matter; Louie, who did not now throw away jobs for nothing, +merely told the man not to be silly--than which, as it happened, she +could have done no better thing, for at the close of the exhibition +the manager, now looking upon her almost as a dear daughter, found her +another place, this time at a gallery academic both artistically and +morally, warned her against dangerous young men, and kissed Louie on +both her laughing cheeks. After that her French again served her turn, +for she entered the office of an illustrated weekly; or if it was not +entirely the French that did it, so much the luckier Louie to possess +even yet a frock that was a rest to the proprietor's eyes after a +succession of applicants in walking skirts and white muslin blouses. +This job Louie actually kept till June 1901; then an amalgamation took +place that threw her out of work again. Three weeks later, after a +severe trial of her temper by Kitty, she was a "carpet designer"--that +is to say, she coloured, in an upper room near St. Paul's Churchyard, +pieces of paper so minutely chequered that sometimes for an hour or +two she could not get the flicker out of her eyes. She made a grace of +retiring from this occupation as soon as she saw that if she did not +do so her employer would retire from the office of paymaster. After +that she was reduced to sitting again, in costume. Nothing else +offered. Jimmy must eat, Kitty's fifteen shillings be covered. The +female figure in "The Two-stringed Bow," which caused such a +(journalistic) sensation in the Academy of the following year, is +Louie. Chaff did not recognise it. Billy Izzard, who had seen the +costume at the Models' Club, did. He persecuted Louie to sit for him +again as before. + +Of the Models' Club she was still a member, and she got on well with +the girls. Once she took Kitty Windus there, but only once; a +black-and-white man, knowing nothing of Kitty's pound a week, asked +her to sit to him as Miss Tox, in "Dombey and Son"; and Kitty, +presently reading the book, treated Louie for some days with marked +superciliousness. That came of making yourself cheap, her manner +seemed to say; and she reported Miriam Levey, whom she met near +Piccadilly Circus one day, as having said, "Vell, vat do you expect?" +Louie did not much like this meeting with Miriam Levey. She remembered +the Jewess's pertinacity and curiosity for curiosity's sake. Many such +meetings between Kitty and Miriam Levey might easily complicate her +own life. + +There were two bedrooms in the flat in the New Kings Road. In the +larger one, that at the back that Louie shared with Jimmy, there hung +at first the sketch she had begged ("stolen" was Billy's word) after +she had ceased to sit. When Louie took this down one day and put it +out of sight, she told herself that she did so on Jimmy's account; but +perhaps those absences that she had to convert into presences as best +she could had something to do with it too. Perhaps, if she did not see +the thing for a time, its first freshness would return. + +Sometimes she thought these absences really too bad; she began to +think so with increasing frequency as Kitty's fits of patronage became +no rarer. Really it didn't seem fair that she should be asked to bear +them. The least Jim could have done, since she bore them for him, +would have been to let her know that he still existed. She did not +much mind looking after Kitty, but it was a little too much that on +his part _all_ should be absence! + +And that was why, with Kitty always at hand for her excuse, she did +not write to him. + +In a word, the joy of bearing for him was becoming fainter in +proportion as the burden itself increased. + +Then a piece of news with which Kitty came home one night added its +trifle to her smart. She was alone in the flat that night; Jimmy had +been in bed two hours and more, and Louie, after having folded his +clothes, cleared up his litter of toys from the floor, and tried to +read a newspaper, had turned low the gas, drawn up a chair to one of +the three windows that looked down on the New Kings Road, and sat +gazing out over the trees and houses and scattered lights that +stretched away to Earls Court. It happened that that night the +Exhibition was closing for the season; a firework demonstration was in +progress; and out of the little pool of orange light rockets rose from +time to time, falling again in slow showers of red and green and +white. If no cart was passing she could just hear the muffled +detonations. + +She knew that if an impossibility could have happened, and Jim could +have walked into the room, sat down by her, and watched the white and +green and red rockets with her, that slight constant smart at her +heart would have gone; but now she told herself that it was not as if +she was young, with unlimited time before her. She was thirty-two, and +too much absence is not sustenance enough for thirty-two. But that, +she supposed, meant nothing to a man. Men did not appear to get old in +quite the same way. The man who had tried to make love to her at the +French picture exhibition was sixty if he was a day; sixty, and still +fiery; and apparently he had found her still desirable also. But it +was not for much longer. Women died with their beauty. Of course she +had her little darling asleep there; men had the comfortable theory +that women wanted nothing more than to "live again" (as they called +it) in their children; well, all that Louie could say was that she did +not agree with them. She knew one woman who wanted more. It might be +wicked and unnatural to endow Jimmy, as she had done, with a sort of +vicarious father, but Roy was gone out of her life--gone; to have +married him would have made more mischief than it would have cured; +and Louie saw no reason for not telling herself the truth about +herself. But a vicarious father who stayed away was altogether too +vicarious.... + +Well, well, she supposed that if a woman would have a man at all she +must put up with a selfish one. + +He, of course, knew exactly what he wanted, and had got it; nor could +she say that he had not earned it--grimly. But now that he had got it, +what about somebody else who was helping him to keep it--somebody +called Louie Causton, who stepped in when she was wanted, took half +the burden off his back, and was presently sent about her business +again? (For she had remembered now the quite personal, preoccupied +questions, about Kitty and Miriam and his wife, that he had put to her +on the night of their long walk.) Oh, no doubt she would be there when +she was next wanted, to share with him the thing another woman ought +to have shared (but thank goodness the other woman had not!). It had +not in the least surprised Louie that his wife knew nothing. It would +have surprised her very much indeed if she had known anything. Jim +might humbug himself as he liked, but at the bottom of his heart (she +now saw) he knew better than to tell her. She was not the kind; it was +Louie who was that kind, and he knew it too. But there: she was +pretty, and men asked no further; give them hair and eyes and an +unlined brow and the rest could go hang. Heart and vision--no; courage +and devotion and the strength to bear--no; but twenty years, a curving +eyelash, and a bloom more quickly gone than the falling rockets +yonder, and ah, how they ran! But they didn't trust them. No, the +other sort was sent for then. And it was the business of the other +sort to be, always, as strong as they sometimes thought themselves. + +The last rocket fell; the lights of the big wheel began to make +quicker revolutions; and Louie left the window and turned up the gas +again. + +As she did so the electric bell in the kitchen rang. It rang again, +and then Louie remembered that the street door four floors below would +be closed for the night. She passed out on to the landing and +descended the stairs. It was Kitty. She had forgotten her key. Kitty +panted as they ascended again. + +"How long have you been in?" she demanded, as she took off her hat and +coat in the little hall. + +"All the evening," said Louie. "Have you had supper?" + +"No, I haven't," said Kitty shortly, and then came her grumble. Why +hadn't Louie had the gas lighted? Fireworks indeed! And there Kitty +had been waiting for twenty minutes and more, thinking nobody was +in--anybody might forget their key once in a while, mightn't they? +Hadn't Louie forgotten hers not a week ago, and that not the only +time? Kitty had a right to forget her key sometimes. And there had +Louie been in all the time, watching fireworks! Well, what was there +for supper? And the fire almost out too; really, if Kitty paid for the +coals, Louie might at least keep the fire in! + +Louie mended the fire and got Kitty's supper. When Kitty had finished +she cleared the little round table again, and by the time Kitty had +put on a pair of red bedroom slippers and turned up her skirt to the +blaze she deigned to relent a little. She admitted that it wasn't as +if Louie had known she was waiting in the street, but all the same it +was annoying. + +"And now I've got a piece of news for you," she said, warming her +hands. "It's a dead secret, but I don't suppose Miriam would mind my +telling you. She's in for no end of a good job in a few weeks! But she +always gets good jobs. She has determination, Miriam has, you see." + +Louie was standing by the end of the mantelpiece, stirring a cup of +cocoa. She only said "Oh?" Her own lack of determination was now an +old reproach. + +"Ra-_ther_! Have you heard me speak of a Mr. Pepper ever? But no, you +won't have; you're always a bit sniffy about Miriam, you see, and that +doesn't encourage people to talk. Well, she's his confidential clerk +at the Freight and Ballast Company, but he's chucking that, and who do +you think with?--James Jeffries!" + +She paused to see the effect on Louie, and then continued. + +"Yes, James Jeffries! What do you think of _that_? They're going to +start on their own, in no end of a swell way, and Miriam's going over +with them. It's Mr. Pepper's doing, of course, and as Mr. Pepper isn't +exactly a nobody even where he is, you may bet your boots he won't +change for the worse! Oh, James Jeffries knows the kind of person to +hang on to! He's to be a partner, if you please, as good as Mr. Pepper +himself; how's that for greasing in? Friends of the mammon of +unrighteousness, I _don't_ think!" + +Kitty had this way now of speaking of her former _fiance_. Sometimes +she so extended his name that it became "Mister James Herbert +Jeffries." And however Jim now "got on," his advancement would still +be, to Kitty, a magnification of her own superiority in those days +when she had had a pound a week and he nothing. She began to take out +hairpins and went on. + +"Oh dear, I wish my brushes were here!" (Louie fetched them.) "What +was I saying? Oh yes, about Miriam. She's to have an office to +herself, perhaps, or at any rate she's not going to sit with the other +girls; and when I tell you it's in Pall Mall, you can judge for +yourself--not just a couple of offices rented, but a whole +building--what ho! The stone that the builders rejected if you like! +And she'll have her own extending-bracket telephone, the very latest, +and arms to her chair to put her elbows on, not like the typists! And +Mr. Pepper's most friendly with her--she takes down his conversations +with no end of swells! And I say, Evie Jeffries won't be half set up +over it all, oh no! Even _his_ office--James Herbert's, Miriam +says--is going to be perfectly scrumptious!" + +Her head was on one side; her short hair, as she brushed it, hardly +reached farther than the sharp point of her shoulder; and Louie was +thinking of that spurious engagement again. And suddenly--this had +happened before, but never before with so keen a stab--the thought set +her raging.... She herself had been so near!... Her elbow caught her +cup of cocoa; it spilt, and ran in a little stream from the corner of +the mantelpiece.... So near! And once again she cried to herself that +_she_ would have known how to keep him, Roy or no Roy!... Kitty? What +could his courtship of Kitty and her bones have been? _She_ would +have shown him the difference! To have been so near and then--Mortlake +Road, Putney! + +Suddenly there seemed to her to be a great deal to be said for +conventional morality after all. + +For a moment her heart was full of hate--hate of Kitty, hate of Evie +Jeffries, hate of Roy, hate of herself. To have been so near! + +But the sharpness of it died down to a sullen ache. In his affairs he +seemed to be going up, up; she had always known he would; and less +than ever might she expect to hear from him now. And he would take his +common little wife up with him. He might go anywhere, meet anybody; +but sourly she wondered what sort of a figure he supposed his Evie +would cut up there--would have cut at Trant or Mallard Bois? Oh, Louie +would dearly have liked to see her there, to have pointed to her, and +to have told Jim to his face that whatever ability he might have +seemed to be yoked with an unimaginable stupidity, since he had not +known instantly the one woman for him. + +Well, there was simply no accounting for these things. + +But if he was going up, Louie did not very much like the channel by +which she had received the information. She had known that Kitty saw +Miriam Levey; now she seemed to hear her thick voice again, "I _vill_ +find out!" She was aware, too, that there was little love lost between +Miriam Levey and herself. She herself had encouraged Kitty in her +present attitude of "Mister Jeffries," but it only needed the Jewess +to propose the contrary attitude and in all probability there would be +a struggle between them for the possession of Kitty. She detested +Kitty; yet in order that Evie Jeffries might make an exhibition of +herself among the people whose equal Louie was, Louie had to put up +with her, bones and chilblains and all! Much he left her, didn't he? +Good gracious, yes! And it was about time he was told that flesh and +blood women weren't made like that! + +Kitty, remarking that it was a shame to leave the now glowing fire, +had passed out of the room for a minute; she now returned, in her +slippers and nightgown. Her feet, she said, were still cold with +waiting on the pavement; she would say her prayers with them turned to +the fire. She knelt by a wicker chair, and set the red slippers on the +low kerb, their worn soles to the fire. Louie, still from the end of +the mantelpiece, watched her. At a slight sound she made Kitty turned +her head for a moment; then she put it on the cushion of the chair +again. + +Yes, certainly Louie must have a wicked heart, or she would not have +looked on the kneeling woman as she did. She wondered what, texts +apart, Kitty could have to say to God. To pray--with her feet in a +warm place! Why, Louie mortified herself more for an absent man than +Kitty seemed to do before her Maker!... And even when she had stifled +the thought she still had no more than a negative compassion for +Kitty. She was not unsorry for her and her weakheadedness; beyond that +Kitty was not, or ought not to have been, her affair. What was her +affair was herself and what little remained of her youth. Kitty was +hardly more than a year or two older than she, but she looked a dozen +years older; Louie wondered whether her shoulder blades too would soon +resemble the set-squares in Billy's studio, whether her waist also +would seem a broken thing within empty looking folds.... + +Kitty continued to pray and to warm her feet. Louie, wondering what +her next snappishness would be when she rose from her knees again, +continued to watch her. + +Then Kitty rose. She turned to Louie. + +"By the way, did you brush that blue skirt of mine?" she said. "Oh, +very well, it doesn't matter now; perhaps I oughtn't to have asked +you; thank you; I can do it myself in the morning. Sorry I spoke." + +Louie turned away. + +These were the times when she could hardly tell what had possessed her +ever to have supposed that she would be able to keep watch and ward +over Kitty at all. Kitty was perfectly free to meet Miriam Levey or +anybody else she had a mind to meet. And why, she asked herself at +these times, should she not meet her? Where, hanging and such +moonshine apart, was the risk to Jim? Indeed, it seemed to Louie that +that story that seemed so to weigh on Jim was quickly becoming +altogether beside the mark. The whole venue of his difficulties was +rapidly shifting. What he had done had not been discovered and +probably never would be discovered; what he wanted now was, not to be +protected from remote and shadowy and nonsensical dangers, but to be +told how he was to be happy with the wife whom he had seen fit, in the +great heap of his wisdom, to keep in ignorance. Of course the remoter +danger need not be entirely forgotten, but this, or else Louie was +greatly mistaken, was what those scarce-heard questions on the night +of that long walk had really meant. + +And, in that case, what the devil was she, Louie Causton, doing in +this gallery at all, with nothing of Jim but silence and absence, and +nothing but peevishness and petty tyranny from Kitty? Roy, it might +be, was still ready to marry her; Buck never ceased to importune, +sulk and implore; Jimmy, one way or another, would be to provide for; +and she knew now how little she could do for him alone. Even her +desire to "show" Richenda Earle had now passed. She wanted, +desperately wanted, all the things she persisted in rejecting. Why was +she becoming morose, disillusioned, devil-may-care? It was a familiar +question now, but as she undressed that night she asked herself again +what it all meant. + +She answered herself that there was no mystery about it. She supposed +it happened to every woman. It meant, of course, the passing of her +youth. + +But, her head on her pillow, she had her compensating hour. No need to +re-describe its kind; there was now added again that forced and +desperate illusion, of the unity of herself, her boy, and the man she +would have had his father. She knew she merely abused her fancy and +must suffer for it afterwards, but no matter; if it was a drug it was +a sweet one, and that it might stay with her a little longer she chose +uncomfortable positions that would keep her awake. She could hear +Jimmy's breathing across the dark room. Jim, Jimmy and herself---- + +It was against her own will that, at two o'clock in the morning, she +slept. + + +IV + +It was his voice over the telephone of the Models' Club that broke the +long silence. Ten chances to one but the bell had rung in an empty +room, for, save for a woman who was washing the hall floor, Louie was +alone in the place. She unhooked the receiver. "Hallo!" she +called.... "Yes, this is the Models' Club.... This is Miss +Causton...." + +At last! + +He did not say why he wanted to see her; he only said that he wanted +to do so at once. His minimised voice, with its suggestion of +distance, seemed to her curiously symbolic of their whole relation. A +telephone was supposed to bring voices near, but far more than that +the smallness and the distance struck her. + +"No, I'm afraid not," she continued to speak into the instrument, "but +I can give you dinner here. You know the address?... Yes, at seven.... +All right...." + +Seek him? No, she certainly would not seek him. He must come to her. +She could give him tea and chops. As she hung up the receiver again +she glanced at the clock over the little service counter. Eleven. +Eight hours.... She had waited for months, now she must wait another +eight hours. She could have faced the months again with more +composure. + +Only to look at the advertisements in the papers had she come to the +Club that morning at all. Well, she was not going to answer that +clairvoyant's announcement she had seen in _The Telegraph_ now. Kitty +would ask her that evening whether she had been looking for work, and +would hold up Miriam Levey and her determination as an example; let +her; Louie couldn't be bothered with clairvoyants and their +advertisements to-day. + +And Kitty little dreamed how near Louie had more than once been to +showing herself as determined even as Miriam. Miriam was not the only +one who might be "taken on" at this new Consolidation of Mr. Pepper's +and Jim's, whatever it was. There is such a thing, when a man doesn't +come to you, as a miserable, ignoble yielding to the ache to go to +him. There is such a thing as the willingness even to keep a door all +day for the sake of seeing him go through it just once. After a +certain time pride becomes a poor staff, and--but he was coming, in +eight hours. That was why she had refused to dine with him. Your pride +stiffens again when you have just been on the point of throwing it +aside. + +She knew that she would be good for nothing for the rest of the day; +in that case she might as well go and see her father. She had money +enough for her bus fares; half-past one found her at the Molyneux +Arms. + +Buck was in high feather. His name had been proposed, in the interests +of Church and State, as a candidate for the Borough Council; and the +chief plank of the platform which Buck occupied during the whole of +that afternoon, descending from it with the greatest reluctance only +when Louie vowed that she could not stay another moment, was that as +long as England had Queensberrys to make her P.R. Rules it didn't +matter what Radicals tried to make of her laws. Louie fondled his +silver hair; dear old dad! Then she made him drive her back to +Chelsea. + +(Buck, by the way, was returned at the head of the poll, a few weeks +later, amid acclamations that might well have rendered him deaf in his +other ear also.) + +Back in the Club once more, Louie set aside the best chop, and made a +tour of the place in search of the narrowest table. The one she chose +was so narrow that the backs of the two chairs she turned up against +it almost touched. Lightheartedly she rebuked Myrtle Morris, who asked +her whether she was expecting "a boy"; and she laughed as Myrtle went +off to tell another girl that "Causton was on the warpath." Her +warpaint consisted of a white blouse, low and perfectly plain at the +neck, and a navy blue skirt. She was waiting at the window for Jim +twenty minutes before he came. + +She had schooled herself to a rigorous composure. She opened the door +for him and told him to mind the hall lamp, within an inch of which +his hat reached; and the hand she gave him was not gloved this time. +But she barely touched his hand; had she not two whole hours before +her? He put aside a cheap hanging of rustling beads for her to pass, +and then followed her into the large room on the left of the hall, +empty save for a piano and a few chairs, that was used for parties and +tableaux. Myrtle and another girl appeared for a moment in the +doorway; the minxes appeared to be waltzing, but they had come to see +who "Causton's boy" was; and as they sat down she asked him, as if +daring him to find any but the plainer meaning in it, how Billy Izzard +was. She exulted that she could say these things and he could not. +Then she was told that their chops were ready. They passed into the +next room. + +The table--it was a flimsy card-table covered with a cheap traycloth +stiff with starch--accounted for all awkwardnesses and proximities; +again she found it secretly delicious to murmur a demure apology for +its smallness. She lingered over the eating of her chop merely because +her plate was edge to edge with his; she would manage badly if she +could not keep him at least two hours! Then, when she could linger out +her eating no longer, she asked him for a cigarette and a light--for +in the studios she had learned to smoke. He gave them to her. Her lids +hovered as he held the match; she wondered whether she should look +straight into his eyes or keep her lids downcast. In the end she did +both, looking at him first, then down. Whether he looked at her at all +she did not know; the first at any rate was a miss. She did not ask +for a second match (she had, she told herself, some shame); instead, +she put her elbows on the table and said, without further delay: +"Well, what is it?" + +She nodded as he began to tell her; it seemed to be pretty much what +she had expected. She listened, or half listened; she would not have +sworn, had he challenged her, that her attention did not wander a +little. Her thoughts were ahead of his, but a little patience--he +would catch up; he would see presently that what his wife might think +or what she might not think (for that was what he was talking about) +was of less practical importance than he supposed. Naturally his wife +must be thinking this and that; marriage that left such a thing as +a--call it a private execution--out of the calculation might even turn +out to be a little difficult; but she might as well hear what he had +to say about it. She waited for the cropping up of the names of Miriam +Levey and Kitty Windus; they duly appeared. Mrs. Jeffries, it seemed, +wanted to see Kitty, and Miriam Levey wanted her to do so. Why they +wanted these things was not very clear, but possibly, if Louie was +giving him only half her attention, Jim was not saying all he knew +either. He still considered that aspect of the affair to be wholly and +solely the problem: but no doubt he would wake up by-and-by. + +Suddenly she asked him whether he and his wife had quarrelled. He +shook his head that apparently, in spite of its stupidity, she must +still love. + +"No--oh no." + +"Well----" + +And on he went again, still quite a number of leagues behind--the +complication of his former engagement to Kitty, Evie's sense of +unexplained things, Miriam Levey, her voracious curiosity, her +presence at this new Consolidation. + +But here she interrupted him. "One moment. When do you start--this +Consolidation?" + +He was toying with a knife; the little reflection passed over his +massive face as he turned the blade. "In a few weeks. Why?" + +"You don't intend to take Miriam Levey over with you?" + +He put the knife down with a little slap. "I do not," he said. Louie +had thought as much. So, no doubt, in spite of what she seemed to have +said to Kitty, had Miriam Levey. + +"Well, go on; I interrupted you," she said. + +He went on. It seemed to her that if nothing had actually happened his +overcarefulness was the one way likely to bring it to pass. Then, she +supposed, he would ring her up on the telephone again. + +By this time she was thinking far more of Miriam Levey's empty chair +at the new Consolidation than she was of things unaccounted for +between her guest and his wife. + +And as for those unexplained things (Louie neither knew nor cared what +they might be), she could only tell him now what she had told him that +night when they had walked together, that wives must either be wives +or not, must be told things or else be something less than wives. +Perhaps she had not put it quite so plainly to him as that before, +but that was what it had amounted to. Men with secrets ought to marry +the right women.... She stole a daring look at him across the table. +He was mumbling and twiddling a spoon now. His shoulders, bigger than +Buck's, were clothed in an exquisite iron-grey cloth; she wondered +whether he knew that she had kissed one of them that night in a +Chelsea doorway.... And then, as he paused and looked up, she spoke. +She did so almost curtly. If not telling hadn't answered, she said, +she could only suggest, once more, telling. As for Kitty, he might put +her entirely on one side; as long as she remained with Louie, Louie +would answer for her. + +Then, for the first time, he seemed to show a gleam of interest in her +affairs. He asked her how she got her living, now.... Her pulse +quickened. Billy had told him, then; by "now" he meant now that she no +longer sat; and his eyes avoided hers. He coloured; apparently he +thought he was doing her an honour in wiping out all memory of that +discovery in Billy's studio. An honour! She could have laughed at him. +He little knew how she longed to tell him more--to tell him about the +oyster-grey too--to tell him that for her it was as long ago as that. +But no, he had seen the pearl---- + +And it appeared that his talk really had an object now; but, as usual, +she had seen the drift of it before he had. He was thinking of Miss +Levey's place, if his absurd delicacies would only allow him to get it +out. + +"Would you accept it?" he managed at last to ask, sounding her +earnestly with his eyes. + +"Steady, silly woman," she whispered to herself, brightly flushing.... + +But, glancing at him, she suddenly winced. Twice before men had +offered her posts, at more than their market value, and there had been +no colour in her cheeks as she had refused them; had she coloured now +at the quick thought that if _he_ had made such an offer she might +perhaps...? If so, there was mortification and despite in her colour. +Why did he offer her Miss Levey's place? Was it his wife again--always +his ninny of a wife? If that was so, so much the worse for him; it was +time he learned that if he got into a mess he must make shift to get +out of it again. There was a new little twang in her voice as, +suddenly looking into his eyes, she said: "You've no right to expect +that of me!" + +And as soon as the words were spoken, she saw too where she herself +stood, and to what point beyond she was prepared to go. She knew now +that she would have taken his job, not at added wages, but without +wages at all. But to the humiliating thought that he imagined himself +to be doing her a kindness was now superadded that of his entire +ignorance that she might be making an attack upon his faithfulness at +all. Suddenly she saw herself merely wonderful to him--_she_ +wonderful!--she, who had thought she could spend all her life up in +the clouds, be content to be magnanimous for magnanimity's sake, +virtuous for the mere love of virtue! Oh, if that was all, he needn't +think _that_ any longer! Wonderful?... What she wanted was not +wonderful at all, oh dear, no: merely something common, coarse, +filling; nothing more wonderful than that.... Wise mother, to have +known that that was the end of it all, and to have taken, long ago, in +Henson's studio, the short cut! She did not even try to check a wild +little exclamation.... + +And he evidently saw something too, though what, as he blundered +deeper, she did not stop to inquire. He gave a groan. "Poor woman!" he +said compassionately. + +He might just as well have set a spark to a fuse. There broke from her +a peremptory cry. + +"Not that, Jim--that's the one thing I will _not_ bear--I will _not_ +be called 'poor woman'----" + +And the rest now had to follow. It was the sum of her broodings, +resentments, hatreds, dreams, desire, despair. Evie, him, herself--oh, +it was not her fault if he didn't see now how the three of them stood. +He knew only too well what he wanted: what Louie wanted she also knew +only too well. Except to offer her a job that would save him even the +trouble of ringing her up on the telephone when her help was required, +had he ever, until this moment, looked at the thing from her point of +view? He had not. She would help him still; but if their ships must +part like this, at least no false tidings should pass from bridge to +bridge: he should know exactly what it was he asked, and why she gave +it! She began to speak rapidly, uncertainly, but sparing him nothing. +Perhaps, after all, she said, his wife would understand; he had only +to tell her that her husband made away with her sweetheart; perhaps +she could bear it; if she couldn't well--he knew what was his for the +holding up of a finger.... + +Then, as suddenly as she had begun, she stopped. Her voice dropped. +"I've had no luck," she said, with quiet bitterness. "I'm out of it, +and there's no more to say. Give me a match." + +And then she rose. He might sit there if he liked. + +He rose too, and they walked down the room in silence together. The +bead screen of the hall parted and tinkled together again behind the +great church-door of his back. Without a word he took down his coat +and, under the coloured hall lamp, hoisted himself into it. And then +he looked at her. + +Already in her heart she knew that that look was the end. Her offer +had been rejected. Whatever else might happen, she, Louie Causton, +would never come between him and his wife. The woman who had those +eyes would keep their looks; had it been Louie's fortune to have them, +she would have kept their looks. He was a plotter, but not of amours; +a carrier through too, but not of intrigues. So grave an innocence was +his that probably he didn't know that his look told her all this; if +so, it was final indeed. + +So she took her dismissal, and then, with her hand on the letter-box +of the door, stood gazing meditatively on the ground. She had wanted +to be wooed; failing that, she had once more brought herself to woo; +and this Joseph had gravely repelled her. + +At last she looked up. + +"About what you were saying--I mean that place of Miss Levey's," she +said. "I don't think it would do--not now." + +The man who could plan a murder but not an affair looked humbly up. + +"Why not?" he murmured. It was as if he said: "I don't remember that +meetings of ours in Billy's studio; I forget this too. You see how it +is. Your taking the job would make no difference." + +Slowly she shook her head. "I should be seeing you," she said. "It +wouldn't do. Good-night." + +She saw that she had missed even more than she had imagined. + +And yet, before Christmas came, she was at that self-same +Consolidation. In October a lofty refusal; in December a creeping back +again with her tail between her legs. Where, she asked herself, was +her pride now? + +The answer was that that had been in October, and this was December. + +When she told Kitty that she was succeeding to Miss Levey's place +Kitty had certain things to say about treachery and broken +friendships. She said them at some length, and then remarked that +after that of course Louie could hardly expect her to stay with her. + +"You never liked her," she said, as if not to like Miss Levey was an +offence in itself. "And I know you tried to keep me from seeing her. +Oh, you think I don't notice things, but you never made a greater +mistake; I could tell you things that would surprise you! You and +James Jeffries have got some game on; don't tell me he didn't give her +the push; Evie and Miriam both say so; oh, you're a deep one, Louie +Causton! First you come between me and Miriam; and then that day your +father came and I was asking him about black eyes and he told me you +could have one _without_ having one till you came to blow your +nose--oh, _I_ watched you! And then to go worming about till you got +Miriam fired and then bag her job yourself! Thank goodness, some +people have better ideas of friendship than that! I have, for one. +Never mind the bit you owe me; you can pay Carter Paterson with it and +we'll call it quits. Perhaps it wouldn't be troubling you too much to +ask you if you knew where the luggage labels are?" + +So Louie let her go. The tract she received by post on the following +day: "God's Eye Everywhere, or No Sins Secret," she dropped into the +fire. Even if Kitty really was groping blindfold on the track of that +stale old private execution, Archie Merridew didn't matter now. The +question had already entered the stage of blank fatality. + + +V + +Louie did not succeed to Miss Levey's chair at once. Somebody else got +that, who made room for somebody else, who made room for Louie. And +her arrival at the Consolidation appeared to be the signal for Jim's +almost immediate departure from it--that is to say, she saw him for +three weeks, then missed him for some days, asked (in another week or +so) a question, and was told that a fall of some sort, supervening on +many weeks of concentrated work, had necessitated a trip to Egypt. She +hinted that she would like to know what his fall had been, but nobody +seemed able to tell her. As a matter of fact, she never knew. It was +merely an act of spite on the part of the stars against herself. + +The ordeal by absence began again. + +This time she was able, somehow, to endure it. She always remembered +him when she passed a shipping company's office, with a model of a +liner in the window and pictures of palms and pyramids and a sphinx +not altogether unlike himself looming up out of the tawny sand; but at +other times she well-nigh forgot him for whole days together. She +could hardly question her immediate superior, a Mr. Whitlock, about +him, and probably Mr. Whitlock could not question Sir Julius +Pepper--for Mr. Pepper was made a knight in the new year. Sir Julius +had altogether too much _nous_ and urbanity to be questioned; he +asked, not answered, questions. Such an indiscretion would have +stamped Mr. Whitlock himself as a man of a barbarous mind. + +The place itself, its plate glass and marble, its gilded lifts and +high galleries and lofty central dome, its floes of desks and counters +and the tessellated floors over which rubber-tyred trollies ran to the +strong-room every night--astonished Louie. What had been consolidated, +who the men had been who had reconciled interests so great that the +mere overcoming of their mass and inertia must have been accounted a +wonder, she never really knew. Perhaps nobody really knew; perhaps not +so much men as forces had accomplished that task. In some of its +aspects the concern was a huge amalgamation of mercantile companies, +mostly railway and shipping; in others it more nearly resembled a +Government Department. But she knew that Jim knew all about it. Jim, +Mr. Stonor (Mr. Whitlock's junior) told her, and Sir Julius, had +planned the whole enterprise. Acting alone, Mr. Stonor said, Jim might +have done the work and then have been shouldered out of the rewards by +such bustling men as Robson, of the Board of Trade, George Hastie and +Sir Peregrine Campbell, and others to whom Louie had lifted up her +eyes when she had kept the appointment-books for the photographer in +Bond Street; but Sir Julius had seen to that--trust Sir Julius! Sir +Julius could cut a throat smiling with the best of them; if Jim was +the genius, Sir Julius was the impresario of the enterprise. And +by-and-by, from the frequency with which Sir Julius and other +potentates said, when puzzled: "What d'you suppose Jeffries would do?" +or "Why the deuce isn't Jeffries here?" Louie came to much the same +conclusion. + +At first she was set to work with twenty other girls who, each sitting +under a porcelain-shaded incandescent that burned all day long, tapped +typewriters in the back part of the building that looked down on the +white-tiled well; and for some weeks it was a question whether she +kept her job or not. For she was dreadfully inefficient, and daily +expected a reduction to the level of the girls who, with rigid +"dolly-caps" clamped round their heads, manipulated the rubber worms +of the big telephone switchboard. But again her improved French served +her turn. Miss Lingard, who sat in Miss Levey's chair behind a screen +twenty yards away, was absent one day; Mr. Stonor haled Louie off to +Sir Julius's room; and Louie, following Sir Julius and a Frenchman +from one to another of the spring-roller maps with which the room was +lined, took down in English short-hand a conversation in French about +the boundaries of some concession or other. It was a badly botched +job, but it was initialled and passed; and Sir Julius, who did not so +much open doors and place chairs as allow it to be discovered that +doors were opened and chairs placed exactly when they should have +been, looked at Louie, thanked her, and presently sent for her again. +One night she had to wait on him after dinner at an hotel, to make +notes of certain conversations; and perhaps Sir Julius noted the +little dipping of Louie's mouth when she was summoned from the +ante-room where she had been kept waiting. She wondered whether he had +expected she would turn up in a dolly-cap. A little after that he +asked her out to dinner, without any business excuse at all. Presently +she was wondering whether she would have to walk out of the +Consolidation or else to tell Sir Julius Pepper not to be a fool. + +It never came to that; exactly how near it was to doing so, Louie +never knew. It was her Uncle Augustus of all people who saved the +situation. His name came up; Louie could not restrain a sour little +smile; and "Do you know Lord Moone?" Sir Julius asked. "Oh yes," Louie +replied. That was all. Sir Julius's charming smile never varied. But +the case was altered. Amanuenses of sorts are one thing, ladies with +private information about the peerage another. Perhaps Sir Julius was +a little of a snob. At any rate, he did not allow his little +gallantries to interfere with business. + +So Louie became a quite superior writer of Pitman's shorthand. The +weeks passed. Jim still remained away. + +Nor had she any news of Kitty Windus, of Miriam Levey, nor yet of Evie +Jeffries. She still, however, remained good friends with Billy Izzard. +It was from Billy that she heard, one night in April, something that +filled her with a vague and ineffectual trouble. + +She had gone up to his place in Camden Town, intending to spend an +hour or so with him; but five minutes was all the time Billy had to +spare for her. He was just off to Victoria to meet a fellow, he said; +if she was going that way they could go together; and she needn't +think he was going to leave her in the studio to steal his sketches. +"One of our heroes just come back from South Africa, a fellow called +Lovenant-Smith," he said. "Coming?" + +"I'll go with you as far as Charing Cross," said Louie. + +Before she left Billy at Charing Cross she had learned quite a lot +about his friend, Mr. Lovenant-Smith. There was nothing especially +heroic about Roy's homecoming; no doubt his work had been useful, but +it had not been fighting; for a year and a half he had not left Cape +Town. He had now come into money, and was handing in his papers; he +would hunt and manage his estate somewhere down in Shropshire. "I +shall go and stop with him," said Billy. "I only hope his horses are +better than that old yacht he nearly drowned the pair of us in." And +at Charing Cross he left Louie. + +Roy was back home, then. + +Well, it made not one atom of difference. Jim away was all to her, Roy +in England nothing. No doubt it was wicked. + +So much the worse for Louie. + +Then, not a week later, Jim returned from Egypt. + +But he returned only to go away once more, this time to Scotland. She +saw him, for just one moment, coming out of Sir Julius's room. He was +very brown, but much thinner, and he had a new overcoat. He went +straight on to Scotland that day. Mr. Stonor said that he intended to +stay there for the rest of the summer. "Overwork, of course," said Mr. +Stonor. + +So yet another absence in her story of absences began. + +She filled it chiefly with work. She rarely got home before ten, and, +save on Saturdays and Sundays, had to leave Jimmy entirely to the +young woman who had succeeded Celeste. Billy had left town, and had +probably gone to stay with Roy in Shropshire. Of Councillor Causton +she now saw little. She wished she could save more money. Jimmy was +now five and a half years old. + +Then, in October, Jim returned from Scotland. Louie half expected that +it would be she who would have to leave now, but this did not happen. +Not that she saw much of him; he did not come until eleven, and went +home again for tea. Sometimes, after he had left, she or Mr. Stonor +had to ring him up at his house in Well Walk, Hampstead; for the rest, +he remained in high seclusion. She was glad it was so. A half absence +such as this had not all absence's pangs, nor was his half presence +too much perturbation; she could take a command with calmness, and she +had nothing but commands to take. She knew by this time that he had a +second child, a little girl, and that seemed definitely to close and +bar the door against any wild and lawless hopes she might ever have +entertained. And so things went on until early in December. + +The thing that entirely changed their course may have seemed an +accident to Jim, but a little reflection made it plain enough to +Louie. She had not seen Evie Jeffries since that afternoon when they +had met at the step of the bus opposite the Adam and Eve; and Evie's +whole face and manner gave the lie to the story she told when, at a +little after three o'clock one afternoon, Louie came upon her in the +counting-house of the Consolidation itself. Near the table with the +calculating machines Louie heard a clerk whisper: "Mrs. Jeffries!" +Forty pairs of eyes were furtively watching her over desk-rails and +glass screens. Some of the clerks even made errands in order to get a +better view of her. If she wanted her husband she had only to ask to +be taken to his room at once, but she stood, a slender figure in new +black furs, by a waiting-room door. Then, seeing Louie, she almost ran +to her. + +"Oh, how are you?" she cried, in an acquired voice, touching Louie's +hand then dropping it again. "Really, this place almost terrifies me! +I came to fetch my husband home to tea--the car's outside--but of +course I know I'm early. I'd such a lot of shopping to do, but I got +through it quicker than I thought. Well, how are you?" + +It seemed to Louie that she did not do it very well; the manner of the +_grande dame_ was the last thing she ought to have attempted. As Evie +put up her hand as if it held an invisible quizzing-glass, Louie +wondered whether she had come primarily to see her husband at all. + +"Really, this is stupendous!" she said. "I wonder if you could show me +round--that is, unless I'm interfering with your duties? Do tell me +what these things are!" + +They were the mechanical calculators; her comment on them was: "How +quaint!" Followed by eyes, Louie took her to the lifts; she said they +must have one like that put into the new house they had taken in +Iddesleigh Gate. "It used to belong to Baron Stillhausen--you've heard +of Baron Stillhausen, the famous diplomat?" she said. From the lifts +Louie took her to the department where the girls in dolly-caps pulled +at the snaky telephone plugs. "Oh," she exclaimed, "so _this_ is where +you talk to my husband in the evenings from, is it?"... Louie had a +little start.... She answered, however, that the private line was in +another place, and led the way. No, Evie Jeffries oughtn't to attempt +this kind of thing; her touch was too heavy. She told more about +herself than she ascertained about anybody else. As they left the +private line Louie somehow had the impression that Evie Jeffries was +counting the paces from Louie's chair to her husband's room. + +She returned to her own place slowly. She wished Evie Jeffries had not +come. Her coming seemed all at once to have diminished Louie's +composure; it was as if a closed question had been clumsily opened +again. "Where do you live? I should like to come and see you," Evie +had said, as they had parted at the door of Jim's room; and that was +odd, since for quite a number of years Evie Jeffries, had given no +sign that she wanted to visit her. Kitty Windus, yes; Miriam Levey, +yes; but she had not wanted to see Louie Causton. But she wanted to +see Louie now, and had come that afternoon, Louie was now convinced, +expressly to see her. Why? Had Jim been talking? Had Kitty and Miriam +Levey been talking? Louie did not know. She only knew that she had +been settled and at peace and was now so no longer. + +And through it all shone an unquenchable recollection--the recollection +of how she had once stumbled upon Evie Soames, not in wonderful furs, +asking for her lordly husband, but dressed in a skirt and blouse, +cheek to cheek in a dark back room with a fancy-stationer's son. + +Evie would never forgive her that discovery. + +With all the elasticity gone out of her, she resumed the work she had +left half-an-hour before. + +But as she lay in bed that night in her little flat, Louie ate her +heart out again. She hated Evie Jeffries. She had remembered, too, an +old, old slander--the slander to know the truth about which Kitty +Windus had come to the Nursing Home in Mortlake Road. Was it that that +had brought Mrs. Jeffries to the Consolidation now? + +Louie tossed and tossed. Oh, she cried vindictively, if it only _had_ +been so.... But to have to submit to the indignity of Evie's jealousy +and not to be able to give her grounds for it! And Mrs. Jeffries +wanted to see her flat! Well, she should be welcome. Louie would +hardly be at the trouble to lie about things, but every stick of +furniture in this place in which Jim had never set foot might +silently lie for her if they would! Would that be to drag Jim in? +Well, let him be dragged in; a woman with a husband like Jim, to be +jealous! Why, with Louie ready and glad to lose her soul for him, he +was the very egotist of faithfulness! He could not be virtuous without +damning Louie with his grave and candid looks! She could almost have +laughed at him. When all was said, such virtue was a byword, and the +story of Joseph a thing for a quiet smile! Then Louie's laugh became a +cry aloud, that woke Jimmy. Jimmy went to sleep again, but she was no +calmer. + +Bitter as spurge was that old story of hers now, and bitterer still +the only moral lesson it now appeared to her to have. Oh, no doubt +there was a deal to say for their conventional morality, but a pretty +moral lesson it was, after all, that you repented of a history with +one man only when it forbade a second history with another! And she +swore again that that first history should not have stood in her way; +more, far more than that was his own headstrong virtue, and perhaps +that was not all either. She had been born for him, she knew it; he +had had never a secret from her save those large open secrets that +scarce a woman shared with a man yet; his hands, that could take life +for love, were made to hold her. She knew it in her soul.... But huge +as it was, he didn't see it. He allowed a pretty face to blind him to +it all. "Oh, come, come!" she had called to him on the only night, of +all those nights, when he and she had walked together; and his answer +had been to take himself away. When she had kissed his shoulder she +had merely kissed the spot where another woman's head had lain. + +Oh, if that slander _could_ only have been true! + +She looked at, and almost tossed aside unread, a letter that came for +her in the morning. Not for a single moment had she slept, and she +wanted no letter from Roy--for it was from Roy. Still she might as +well read it. She did so. + +Billy Izzard was with him; it had come out that Billy knew her, and he +wanted to see her. "I've come back for you," the letter said, "and I'm +not going to let you go this time. Do write when I can come and see +you. Off out now, but do write." She threw it into the fire. Marry +Roy? She would far rather commit another sin than such a reparation. +The trouble was that she could not commit the sin. + +That morning she was sent for by Jim. As she turned the handle of his +door she was ready to make a bet with herself about what he wanted her +for. She was not mistaken. He wanted to thank her for showing his wife +round the day before. + +His wife--always and for ever his wife. + +"If you feel that you must----" she said, biting her lip with +humiliation and passion. + +"It's merely----" he rumbled heavily on.... + +As if she needed to be told what it "merely" was! If he cared to hear +it _she_ could tell _him_ what was "merely" the matter with his wife! + +"Oh, must you?" she said, quivering under the torture. He was playing +nervously with a pen. "Must I what?" he said, not looking up. + +"Must you do this?" + +He looked up. "Shut the door," he said. "Now----" + +She listened to him almost scornfully. Again harping on that informal +execution, as if he had been right and not right, and as if it now +mattered one straw whether he "told his wife" or not! He was saying +something about a doctor; the doctor, Louie gathered, had said she +mustn't have another shock; what had Louie--always and for ever +Louie--to say to _that_? Louie clutched at her skirt with both hands. + +"Don't you know?" she said, clenching the skirt hard. + +"I do not." + +"Then ask me again and I'll tell you," she threatened him. + +"I do ask you." + +Well, if he would have it.... "She's jealous," said Louie. + +The smile that stole slowly over his face set her almost beside +herself. Even Potiphar's wife was probably not smiled at. Louie cut +short the easy words that accompanied the smile. + +"Then if she isn't, why does she want to come and see me at my home?" +she demanded. + +With quite remarkable clumsiness he pretended he had known his wife +wanted this, and smiled again. She stamped on the ground. + +"My good man----" she broke out wildly.... + +What she said she did not remember very clearly afterwards. It was +spoken less to him than to ease her own breast. With nothing to give +her, he still could not hold his tongue nor restrain that smile when +she told him his wife was jealous. Jealous?... + +Yes, and with a jealousy that could now never pass away! For, out of +absences, silences, refusals, virtues, smiles, everything, Louie had, +after all, secured something that all the smiling in the world could +not take away. She _had_ the secret he had feared to share with his +wife. She _had_ the answer to every riddle in his riddle-haunted +eyes. His wife _had_ grounds for her jealousy, after all, had she but +wit enough to know where to look for them. But she too was hopelessly +behind. She too was smelling at cold scents--telephones and visits to +flats. She suspected a gross infidelity, and never dreamed of the +existence of one so fatally searching that the other would have been a +mere incident by comparison with it. Little dullard, how should she? +Her conception even of jealousy was as limited as everything else +about her; a call or two on the private wire at night, and she was +found asking questions at the Consolidation the next day. + +And suddenly Louie saw--fool that she had been not to see it +before!--why Evie Jeffries wanted to come to her flat. It was not to +see the place and its furniture. It was to see Jimmy. + +Oh, if her boy could only have had eyes like a young lion! + + +VI + +When Kitty Windus had come to Mortlake Road and had refused to sit +down until Louie had told her the truth about the wanton slander that +had linked her name with Jim's, Louie had dismissed the matter with +amused contempt. But now there seemed something rather terrible in it. +Its author's stamping-out notwithstanding, for Evie Jeffries it +appeared still to live. What had brought it up anew Louie could not as +much as guess, but there it seemed to be. + +"So that's it?" she muttered to herself. "In that case I may certainly +expect to see you again soon. You won't say anything to your husband; +he'd only smile and disbelieve his eyes and ears if you did--his +powers that way are really tremendous; but you'll probably go to +Miriam Levey, who's rather a gift for these things, and Kitty'll back +her up, and you'll make out your case one way or another. Very well. +When the water's troubled there's the best fishing. _I'm_ not above +certain things now; good gracious, no! I'll find a reason for ringing +him up to-night, and if you go to the telephone yourself so much the +better. And you'll be round to see me at my flat before very long." + +Evie delayed to come, but Louie knew the reason for that. Jim was +moving into his great new place in Iddesleigh Gate. That would take a +little time. Well, there was no hurry. When she did come Louie would +be ready for her. + +Did she still hope, if those waters could be sufficiently troubled, +for a catch? Was she in her heart now as resolved to wreck the peace +of Jim's household as formerly she had been to preserve it? She could +hardly have answered the questions herself. It was Evie, not she (she +told herself), who was going the right way to make a mess of things; +nevertheless, she had only to remember Jim's smile to feel the tigress +stretch itself within her. The loved fool! Could he go all lengths for +love without thinking that a woman might do the same? Louie could not +kill, as he could, smoothly burying the consequences afterwards, but +she could do other things; and she was not sure that she couldn't kill +too. Ten words, it appeared, would do it. Jim, who did not fear +murder, feared those ten words; well, men feared one thing, women +another, that was all. She had only to open her mouth where Jim kept +his shut. + +The only thing was that it did not seem a very sporting thing to do. +Jim had taken his risks; she would be taking none. It was not much, +perhaps, but it was enough to give her pause. + +In the meantime she continued to ring Jim up frequently on the private +telephone. + +It was on the second Saturday afternoon in April that Evie at last +paid her visit. Louie had sent out Rhoda, Jimmy's nurse, for the +afternoon, and was herself setting out with the boy for one of their +precious jaunts. They were half-way down the four flights of stairs +when she heard somebody ascending. She and Evie Jeffries met on the +second landing, where the charwoman ceased to whiten the edges of the +stairs. + +It seemed to Louie that Evie Jeffries must have a sort of lucky-bag of +greetings into which to dip. She could hardly have been surprised to +meet Louie on Louie's staircase, but she drew a wrong one for all +that. + +"Well, this is a sur--a pleasure!" she cried. "You see, I promised to +come, and here I am! Don't tell me you're just going out!" + +"No; we were only going to the South Kensington Museum, and I was in +two minds about it. Come up, won't you?" Louie replied. + +At first Evie wouldn't hear of it, but even as she spoke she had +ascended another step. They went upstairs again, and Louie put her key +into the lock. "You'll excuse me a moment, won't you?" she said, as +Evie entered. "In there's my sitting-room." + +And she herself, turning along the passage, entered her bedroom and +took that old study of Billy Izzard's from its paper wrappings. She +hung it up on its old nail. If Evie Jeffries wished to see her flat +she should see her flat. Then she returned to the front room that +looked away over the trees and houses to Earls Court. + +"So this," said Evie, as she entered, "is your little boy!" + +"Yes, that's Jim. Won't you sit down? I'll put the kettle on and we'll +have tea." + +She went into the kitchen, filled the tin kettle, and set it on the +gas-ring. + +Evie was dressed in an exquisite coat and skirt and an expensive and +wrong hat; silk linings made whispers whenever she moved; but Louie, +who kept her good clothes for the Consolidation, wore the battered old +grey felt hat and long grey coat in which she had passed from studio +to studio. But she knew that Evie envied her her distinction of +motion. Evie's figure was pretty and "stock," charming but with no +surprise--that of a demonstrable beauty. And the acquired tones had +come into her voice again. + +"How ripping up here!" she approved. "Such a splendid--view! I wish we +had a view like it in Iddesleigh Gate; but as I told my husband, even +money can't buy a view in London. Delightful! Have you the morning +sun?" + +"That's in my bedroom," said Louie. "How did you come--by car?" + +"No; I felt that I needed the walk. Really people will be forgetting +how to walk soon. Well, at all events, he's a beautiful boy!" + +Louie saw no reason why she should not say, in the simple French which +may more or less be assumed to go with large houses and cars, that she +preferred that the boy himself should not be told so; and then she +went into the kitchen again to smile. She remembered Burnett Minor: +"Voo affectay feele!" she murmured softly. Then she made tea. + +"I suppose you're not quite settled yet?" she said, returning with the +tray. + +"Settled! Why, it will take us months!" Evie purred. + +"Of course. It seems very odd to talk over the telephone, though, to a +place you've never seen. Sugar? Is this place at all like what you +imagined?" + +Again came the ready-made answer: "Oh, it's really quite too +delightful!" It was a pity, Louie thought, that Mrs. Jeffries had not +had the advantage of a few minutes' talk with Mrs. Lovenant-Smith +before coming to see her. The Lady-in-Charge at Rainham Parva might +have warned her. + +But Louie knew that already her very chairs and mats and brown-papered +walls were silently whispering to Evie Jeffries. She might talk of +Iddesleigh Gate, but she was thinking of nothing less than of +Iddesleigh Gate. Perhaps she had been reassured in the matter of +Jimmy's eyes, which were as blue as Roy's, but her own eyes were +taking in everything for all that. Let them. Louie wondered whether, +did she turn her back for a few minutes, her visitor would question +the child. + +"The Amaranth Room?" she presently interrupted Evie's flow to say. +"Have you really a room called that? How lovely it sounds!" + +"Nearly fifty feet long, my husband says; why, it has to have three +large fireplaces, as well as the radiators, but of course there's +steam-heat all through the house. It's delicious, not to walk into +cold patches all of a sudden. And all the windows on one side are +double, so that the place is perfectly quiet. You must come some time. +Of course," she took herself up, "our other house was quite a poky +place; my husband never really settled there; but at Iddesleigh Gate, +he says, he can really stretch himself." + +Louie meditated for a moment. Then: "What's really been the matter +with him?" she asked. She knew that Evie would probably not believe +she didn't know; for that reason it was better to ask. + +But she got no information. It was overstrain, Evie replied lightly, +and then on the top of that he'd slipped one night and caught his head +on the corner of a fender. He'd slipped because he'd been really +fagged out, what with starting the Consolidation and one thing and +another. "But he looks all right now, don't you think?" Evie asked. + +"Perfectly, I should say, from the little I see of him." + +"Of course you mostly do Sir Julius's work, don't you?" + +"Mostly." + +"It must be great fun for you, being taken out by Sir Julius +sometimes. My husband told me that." + +"Quite amusing." + +"Miss Levey was never taken out like that!" + +"No? Have you seen her lately?" + +But again Louie got little information. Included in what she did get, +however, was a lie. Evie reported that Miss Levey, now at some Women's +Emancipation League or other with Kitty Windus, had actually been +going to write to Louie to suggest that she, Louie, should apply for +her old place. Louie gave a little nod. Of course Miriam Levey, rather +than own to defeat, would pretend that she had left the Consolidation +of her own accord. Louie rose. + +"But perhaps you'd like to see my place?" she said. "Not that I think +you'll find it very amusing. But you can see it if you like." + +"I should love it! Is Jimmy coming? Do you know, Jimmy, I've got a +little boy like you, but not nearly as big?" + +"Has he got a helmet like mine?" Jimmy demanded. + +"No; but I think I shall have to get him one." + +"You stay here, Jimmy," said his mother; and she led the way to the +kitchen. + +Evie praised the kitchen and its meagre appointments, and was then +shown the bathroom. "It hasn't a crystal bath," Louie said, "but it +does to wash in." She lingered in the bathroom a little; she was +thinking of another bath and certain old jokes about brown-paper +parcels. Then, first showing Evie the bedroom that had been Kitty's, +she passed to her own room at the back. + +Against the wall on the left lay Jimmy's bed; her own was across the +room, with its head under the break of the mansard roof. The little +built-out window, from the glass sides of which rows of chimney-pots +could be seen, faced the door, and over the fireplace on the right, +full in the light, hung Billy's study. It was the second thing on +which Evie's eyes rested. Louie was careful not to look at it. + +For in that place at any rate she was going to strike; the rest might +fall out afterwards as it would. As she turned away to pat Jimmy's +pillow she was suddenly fighting white; the little creature had come +for it and should have it. And she should have it swiftly and without +warning. Even as Louie had turned her back her heart had given a +leap.... + +For up to that moment it had been always possible that Jim had not +spoken of his intrusion into Billy's studio that evening; but there +was no doubt now! Jim--or perhaps Billy Izzard--had told her. Probably +Billy. Probably Billy first, and then, seeing she already knew, Jim. +All at once there rushed upon Louie, as she passed from Jimmy's bed to +her own and smoothed the coverlet of that also, what had happened +later that same evening, when her arms had supported a collapsing Jim +in a Swan Walk doorway and she had passionately called him: "Come, +come! Come, come!" + +She spoke quietly; quietness was so much more destructive. + +"This is where I get the morning sun. But it's very windy. The wind +blew that picture you're looking at down the other day." Then, without +either pause or change of tone: "By the way, that's what you came to +see, isn't it--that and my boy?" + +Simultaneously with her blow she was commenting to herself: "That's +good-bye to you, Sir Julius; she'll see I don't come back to the +Consolidation after that; will you have Miss Levey back again, or will +you try her friend Miss Windus? I don't think you'll offer Miss Windus +an--er--increase of wages. As for me, I suppose I can sit again; +nothing matters now. Or there's a plainer way still----" + +The next moment she had called sharply: "Go away, Jimmy, till I call +for you! Go and look out of the window for Rhoda!" + +Then she turned and faced the woman who had taken two quick, running +steps towards her. Insolently she smiled into her eyes. + +"That was it, wasn't it?" she said. + +Mrs. Jeffries did not fight white. The blood had thronged to her head +until her very lips seemed swollen; Miss Levey could hardly have +spoken more thickly. She spoke, too, in a passionate ellipsis than +which Louie's own five words did not go more straight to the heart of +the matter. + +"Oh, you would if you could--I've known that a long time!" she cried. +"Wouldn't you just--rather! You'd do it if it was only to give _me_ +one for myself! _I_ know you." + +Louie thought she rather liked her for making a fight of it. She still +smiled. "Then that was it?" she said. + +Evie flushed even more deeply. "You didn't suppose I didn't know all +about that absurd meeting, did you?" she said, with a still darker +flush. + +"Dear me, no. I've known for weeks that you 'knew'--if we mean the +same thing. Perhaps we don't, though. Anyway, I can quite understand +your wanting to see for yourself. Miss Levey can't tell you +everything." + +Evie's inability to speak for mere fury was so evident that Louie, +after watching her for a moment, continued: + +"As for that picture, naturally I wanted to keep it. I'm sure you'll +see that for yourself." + +Here Evie flamed. "'Naturally!'" she broke out. Louie gave an almost +humorous shrug. + +"Well, surely it's natural?" + +"Natural!... As if his coming in wasn't the merest accident!" + +"Oh, I know that; but what _are_ you here for then? And now that you +_have_ been and seen, what can you possibly do about it?" + +Evie's lips seemed as thick as if a bee had stung them. She broke out +again. + +"'It!'--I like your 'it,' Miss Causton or Mrs. Causton or whatever you +call yourself!" + +Louie coolly smoothed the folds of her blouse. "By 'it,' I mean, of +course, my loving your husband," she said. "As you guessed, I knew +that you knew about that picture. But it's really a much older thing +than that! I don't quite know how old; while you were still engaged to +somebody else--as old as that anyhow. And as it's purely my affair, +and even he can't stop it, I wonder what _you_ can possibly do!--I'm +'Miss' Causton, by the way." + +Louie had almost a genius for these last words that could be taken up; +she smiled again as Evie, taking them up, said: "Oh, _are_ you!" + +"Well, I don't think I need be longer than I like, but that's neither +here nor there. The important thing at present is whether you were +wise to come to-day or not. I wonder whether you'd let me give you a +piece of advice?" + +And that, as Evie still stood speechless with rage, might be described +as the end of the first round. There was a long pause during which the +two women stood looking at one another. Then the second round began, +with a rapid exchange of half sentences. + +"Advice! Thanking you very much for your kindness----" + +"Oh, please don't raise your voice; they aren't double windows here." + +"Advice is cheap." + +"Far from it, believe me." + +"You common----" + +"Sssh, ssh, ssh! Your husband wasn't above asking my advice----" + +"I'll take very good care----" + +"Please--there are other people in these flats." + +"Well, is noise anything new here?" said Evie grossly. + +"Oh, you really shouldn't say those things!" + +And again they fell back, as it were, for breath. It was Louie who +presently resumed. + +"I don't in the least know why I should want to advise you," she went +on. "I'd no intention of doing so when you came into this room, and to +be frank I still half hope you won't take the advice. But you'll +please yourself about that. It's this. Don't be a little fool. Go +home, and don't tell your husband you've seen me at all. If you do +you'll make a sad mistake. You say advice is cheap; well, this isn't; +it's fearfully dear. It's not the first time I've tried to help you, +and I really haven't strength to do it any more. No, don't try to +think of fresh names to call me either; already you've called me +common and told me that the tenants here are used to hearing angry +wives, and one can have too much of that. So go home, and say nothing +to your husband about where you've been. Believe me, it'll be quite +the best." + +It did in truth cost her more, far more, than she had intended to pay. +The greater fool she, she told herself, but--she gave a quick, defiant +glance round the bedroom, as if her eyes sought somebody who dared to +meddle in her affairs. She would be a fool if she wished; who should +stop her? This jealous little scold had fair warning now; let her take +it and go while there was yet time. Louie had all but spoken her +former _fiance's_ name once; with much more provocation she might +forget herself and involve Jim too in a catastrophe of ten little +words; and she wanted to do the sporting thing after all. Let Jim's +wife take her fill of that canvas of Billy's, then, and go. Her eyes +were glued to it now. As she looked Louie exulted; it _had_ been +so--precisely so; not all Evie Jeffries's looking could alter that +fact.... + +But suddenly, as if even in this gratification and triumph lurked a +peril best avoided, Louie strode to the canvas, took it from its nail, +and set it on the floor by the little fireplace with its face to the +wall. She had felt the tigress stretch again. To put that thing out of +sight was the safest thing to do. She turned to Evie again. + +"Please go," she said. ("Yes, mother's coming in a minute, Jimmy.) You +see, he's calling me. Forgive my turning you out like this, but do, do +go, and don't tell your husband where you've been. Good-bye." + +But Evie Jeffries seemed to suspect that Louie was merely "coming it +over her" with something indefinable, essential, not to be acquired. +After all it was she, this shabby, grey-eyed woman, who wrote +shorthand for a weekly wage, and herself, Mrs. James Herbert Jeffries, +who lived in the mansion in Iddesleigh Gate. Perhaps she felt herself +challenged; at any rate she plunged her hand into her lucky-bag once +more. + +"Oh, there's no need for such a hurry," she said frigidly. "For one +thing, I'm a little particular about who I take my advice from. You +needn't think I don't see you're just shutting me up?" + +Louie was almost hushing, soothing. "Then let me shut you up. You've +seen all you came to see; if there's anything else you want to know, +ask me, quite quickly----" + +And Louie, in her eagerness to get rid of her and to remove herself +from danger, almost gladly submitted to what Evie said next. + +"Oh, of course, if you've--an appointment," she said, with a toss. + +"Yes, I've an appointment--you understand," she answered, with a +little shepherding movement of her hands. + +But the next moment that too had turned into something else. + +"Oh, you little fool!" Louie broke out, suddenly seeing. "You don't +suppose I'm trying to get you out of the way so that I can meet _him_, +do you? Good gracious, woman, he's never set foot in this place in his +life, and I'll see he never does! Perhaps I wanted you to think he +had--I don't know what I thought--with one and another of you I'm +getting almost past thinking--but that's the truth anyway! _Now_ are +you satisfied? Or have you got the idea so thoroughly into your stupid +little head that nothing will shake it? If you're going to spend your +Saturday afternoons going round to every place you think might +possibly----" + +But the denial counted for nothing. Evie turned haughtily. + +"Who's making the noise now? And why should I believe you? I knew +before I came you'd say that----" + +"Oh, how you try me!... I _do_ say that. There's nothing else to say. +Do you think if it was any other way I shouldn't boast of it, to you +or anybody else? Why, how _can_ you know so little of him--not to +speak of myself----" + +"You needn't talk as if you hadn't already had the cheek to tell me +you loved him!" + +"Did I? Upon my soul, I sometimes don't know whether I do or not! Say +I don't--say I lied--say I sometimes almost hate him as much as I do +you and you me." + +"Oh, very likely, the grapes being sour," Evie scoffed. + +"Then if they're sour----? What more do you want? Isn't that enough? +And isn't it more than enough that I let you stand there and tell me +so? Oh, I'm doing my best to warn you--you'll make a great mistake if +you make me _try_ to get him!" She stamped. "_Won't_ you go?" + +Evie too stamped. "Oh yes, I'll go, and so will you, I promise +you--from Pall Mall----" + +"Anything you like--only go----" + +But as Evie took a step towards the door a little accident turned +Louie suddenly as white as paper. Billy's study leaned against the +wall; Evie's skirt or foot caught it as she passed; and the canvas +fell. Evie gave a short laugh and pushed it with her shoe. + +The dear symbol, nay, the very evidence of so many dreamings, that +poor thing of wasted smiles and sighs and tears, the pearl from the +heart of the oyster-grey---- + +A kick of her rival's shoe was treatment good enough for it---- + +It was as if the hives of her own breasts and the heart beneath them +had been trodden on. + +Louie stepped slowly forward. "No, stop," she said. + +She stood for a moment looking down at the picture; then she spoke +slowly. + +"You were quite right to come," she said. "You have reason to be +jealous." + +Evie affected not to hear, but she heard. Louie continued: + +"A moment ago I told you not to tell him you'd been here. Now I want +you to tell him. He may even be expecting it. You see we have spoken +of it, he and I." + +Evie Jeffries seemed about to say something, but "Just one moment," +said Louie quietly---- + +She placed the picture against the wall again, face outwards. She did +not display it as a taunt now; it had served its turn. As if Evie's +looks had cheapened it, she no longer wanted it. She stood looking at +it. + +"It was the last time I sat," she murmured to herself. + +Even that pale shadow of a bridal was to be taken from her. + +Well, let it go. + +This time it was her own foot that kicked the canvas aside; then like +a flash she turned--Louie at her deadliest. + +"I suppose you're aware you've lost him, whether he knows it yet or +not?" she demanded truculently. + +Again she was grateful to Evie that she stiffened up against her. Evie +smiled. + +"Oh, that way--'whether he knows it or not'--nobody minds _that_ kind +of losing! _That_ wasn't what you were trying to make me believe a few +minutes ago. Thank you very much for the tea, not forgetting the +advice," she went on, "and if I might return the compliment, I should +like to give you a piece of advice too. You say you could get married +if you like; I'd jump at that if I were you! You see, there's your +boy. Quite a well-behaved little fellow he seems--quite a superior +child--and now that I've seen for myself, I'm perfectly satisfied, +thank you!" + +"Then," said Louie, advancing, "I'm going to spoil your satisfaction. +Listen to me." Her eyes were like saucers of ice. "You've lost your +husband. I'm not going to tell you how, but I'll tell you how you can +find out. You can tell him what he wouldn't believe when I told +him--that you're jealous. You've reason; ask him what it is. If he +doesn't tell you, he daren't; if he does--ck!--it's all up between +you. Do you suppose," she said slowly, "that _you're_ the kind of +woman men tell things to? You, who can neither trust him nor be +trusted by him? You, who spy on him when his back's turned? You, who +listen while a miserable little Jewess makes mischief for you--for I +guess Miriam Levey sent you here? _You_ think you love him? Look at +me, I say"--she rapped out the words like a command--"listen, and I'll +tell you _my_ idea of loving a man! I've messed my life; if you were +anything but what you are you'd know that if you wanted to hurt me +your way wouldn't be to point at my little boy and look round my +bedroom as if you expected to find pipes and overcoats there! Oh, +that's not the way! The way would be to let me see what a perfect +marriage could be; there might be tears in my eyes then! But what's +this you show me instead? Oh, I know what your marriage is without +telling. It would take you and a woman to make a wife for a man! And +what would mine have been if I hadn't thrown my chance away? What +should I have said if I'd seen what you think you've seen? Listen! I +should have said: 'Go, if you like; find a woman if you can whose +love's like mine; search the earth for her; I give you leave, and I +shall be waiting for you, just the same, when you come back and say +there isn't one!' But had _you_ thought of that? Not you! At a word +you're off, asking whether this and that's true, because you don't +trust him; and so he gives his trust to somebody else! That's what +you've lost--and you don't even miss it, you know so little of love!" + +Evie had fallen back against the wall, a little intimidated by her +vehemence. She did not understand, but she seemed to apprehend that +there was something she did not understand. Louie broke out anew. + +"_You_ know love! And when and how did you learn it, pray? As you +learned your shorthand and things (oh, you're trying hard to forget +you ever knew them!) at that place in Holborn? Why, you failed in your +petty little examinations there; do you think love's easier? Something +you get out of a text-book and answer a paper on? Your husband might +know if you don't! _He_ knew just what those other lessons were worth, +but he doesn't seem to know that loving has a genius too--that one in +a million has it as a gift and the others mimic it as you're mimicking +people in your dress and talk now! And you call _me_ common--me, who +told your husband long ago what his only, only chance was! Oh, I +mustn't say any more or I shall say everything! And you toss your head +and say: 'Nobody minds that kind of losing!' That's your idea; that's +what you really think! Why, your mind wants a window as badly as that +little dark back room at your Business College.... Oh, it maddens me, +the sheer waste! A necklace of love--pearls--and good gracious, a bit +of cheap glass in the middle of it! Yes, I mean you." + +She was walking rapidly up and down; she struck the rail of Jimmy's +cot with her hand as she passed. Evie, cowed, watched her from the +wall. Louie stopped before her. + +"What do you _do_ for him?" she said bitterly. "What do you _give_ +him? What do you _bear_ for him, suffer for him? Don't whimper--tell +me--you've made pretty free with me--put that handkerchief away and +tell me----" + +But instead of putting the handkerchief away, Evie burst into loud +sobs. Louie watched her remorselessly. Tears, of course--no doubt that +was the way she managed Jim---- + +"That's no good with me," she said harshly. "I want to know what you +do for your husband besides following him about and asking questions +about him." + +Evie's hand moved as if for a chair. There was none. She lifted her +head, walked across the room, and fell across Louie's bed. Louie still +watched her unmoved. + +"Well?" she demanded again, after a quarter of a minute. + +Muffled in the bedclothes, Evie's voice came. + +"I give him all--all I--have. You talk as if--as if--I'd no right--to +be on the earth at all." + +"Well?" + +"Oh, you do--you do! How--how can I give him more--than I've got? Oh, +you think you know, but you don't--you don't know what I've gone +through--you've never had that horrible morning--when I was to have +been married--and I never expected Jeff to propose, but he did----" + +"Oh, for goodness' sake, get up!" Louie cried. + +"He did--one day--and I said No at first, but he caught hold of me.... +And even then I was jealous about Kitty--I know I'm jealous--but he +told me afterwards that I needn't be jealous of poor Kitty because +he'd only done it because he thought he couldn't have me--I know I'm +jealous--it hurts sometimes so that I can only cry and cry----" + +Louie hadn't wanted this at all. Again she cried: "Oh, get up!" but +Evie continued to sob. + +"And then when Jeff saw you--that night--at Billy's--it was worse than +ever, but I kept it from him. I'm not like you, Louie--it's no good my +telling myself I don't mind--even though I knew it was all an accident +it was like a knife----" + +"Oh, don't lie there like that!" Louie muttered. + +"And then Miriam Levey reminded me of that thing Archie had said--but +he's dead now--and I know it was absurd, but I did think he liked you. +You've--such ways, you see--I expect you've been a governess or +something in swell houses--I've got to learn them too, now, but Jeff +says I'm really very quick at it----" + +Louie was pacing the floor now, but more slowly and with downhung +head. This was the very last thing she had wanted. More than ever she +hated this unresisting piece of pulp; but strike again she could not; +no, not with Evie's soul as it were a naked picture for her to set her +foot upon. And unless she did strike it was now quite, quite final. To +take it lying down! Gladly she would have goaded her into a fresh show +of resistance; contemptuously she would have told her to stand up and +fight; but the child--Louie felt her to be a child, and herself a +faded woman--was merely beyond all decency exposed. Louie only wanted +to cover her up again as quickly as possible--her confessions, her +abjectness, her appalling artlessnesses, her humiliating appeals. She +was beginning to sob once more. + +"Oh, don't go on like that; do get up and pull yourself together!" +Louie snapped. + +"I do love him--I haven't anything else to give him--except my +life--he could have that--you couldn't give him more than that----" + +"I could stop blubbering for him," said Louie curtly, resuming her +walk. + +Yes, it was final. Evie had overcome; Louie now backed out of the +whole affair. If Jim liked to tell her of his own accord, well and +good; it still seemed the only way out; but what was the good even +then? Evie Jeffries would no more acquire love as Louie understood it +than she would ever acquire the _nous_ to preside without betrayals at +Jim's table at Iddesleigh Gate. And if Evie had lost Jim, so had +Louie. By her silence she was relinquishing him now. She saw his image +recede, slowly, slowly, as if it had been indeed that ship of her +fancy, outward bound, her own vessel already condemned for breaking +up. Yes, the ship was drawing away. The eyes of her spirit tired of +watching it; surely now she might turn them elsewhere; but no--there +it was still, very small, leaning, no doubt, to a brisk breeze, but +hardly appearing to move.... No, it was not gone even yet; that sudden +anguished searching for it was but a trick of the eyes; it was still +there--a speck---- + +And it had only needed six words: "James Herbert Jeffries killed +Archie Merridew." + +Suddenly Louie herself sank to the floor by Jimmy's cot. Evie heard +her sinking. She rose from the bed and ran to her. But Louie cried +aloud and put up her hand. + +"For God's sake don't touch me--go now--and say nothing." + +The touch of Evie Jeffries would have been more than she could have +borne. + + * * * * * + +"Mother, there _is_ a gentleman!" + +It was Jimmy's voice outside the door. + +Slowly Louie rose to her feet. "Very well," she called shakily; "talk +to him till I come. Please go at once," she added to Evie. + +Evie began: "I'm sorry I said----" + +"Oh, do you want me to strike you?" + +"Can't I--do anything--for you?" + +"_Go!_" + +She heard the outer door close behind Evie Jeffries. By that time her +eyes were straining at a wide and empty horizon.... + + +VII + + +Sec._a_ + +What followed when, after a few minutes during which Louie bathed her +face in the bathroom, she entered her sitting-room again, fell +mercifully flat. Any visit would have been an anti-climax; a visit now +from Roy--it was Roy--was even welcome for that reason. If she must +see him, best get it over. + +He was sitting on a rush-seated chair with Jimmy between his knees. +Jimmy was playing with his watch. Save that the rims of his stolid +porcelain-blue eyes were pinkish, as if with suppressed tears, he had +not greatly changed. He wore a braided morning-coat; his silk hat, +stick and gloves lay on another chair. His watch slipped from his +boy's hand and dangled by its chain as he rose. His voice carried +Louie instantly back to the carpenter's shed at Rainham Parva. + +"It's me, you see, Louie; here I am, like a bad penny, always turning +up." + +Louie spoke listlessly. "How are you? I'll get you some tea." + +A minute later, with a "May I come in here?" he had followed her into +the kitchen. He merely got in her way, if she could be said, in her +complete exhaustion, to have a way at all. She was cutting bread and +butter. + +"Louie, old girl," he said piteously over the bread-board, "why didn't +you--tell a fellow?" + +Louie did not answer. Then Roy chirped up a little, as if something +might now, past all discussion, be taken for granted. + +"Well, this settles it," he said. "Clinches it entirely. You know what +I mean." + +Louie did know. "Just take the kettle off, will you?" she said. + +"So you see that's settled--clinched," said Roy, quite bustling. +"Right you are. The only question now is; how soon can you pack up." + +"We'll talk about it presently, if there's anything to say. There +isn't, though. Will you carry the tray in?" + +Jimmy ran straight to his knee again. "May I give him some jam?" said +Roy; and then he added to the boy: "Oh, come, don't mess yourself up +with it like that!" Louie remembered his account of the accident with +the centre-board: "Jam and all the lot!" but she did not smile. + +"Rhoda will be here in a few minutes, then I'll have a short walk with +you," she said. "I've nothing to say, though." + +Presently Rhoda did come in, and Louie put on her hat and old grey +coat. They went out and walked slowly across Eelbrook Common towards +Walham Green. There she told Roy that his return could make no +difference whatever. "Don't talk such stuff, Louie," he said; "sit +down." They sat down on a bench on the side of the common past which +the District Railway runs and talked. + +The air rang with the shouts of poorly clad children at their Saturday +afternoon play; the common was a-crawl with urchins. Into Roy's +honest, statue-like eyes tears had come; none came into Louie's. She +only shook her head. + +"You're only lacerating me," she said. + +"But, Louie----" + +"You want to lacerate me?" + +"But--the little chap----" Roy said presently, with a gulp. "Will you +tell a fellow how you manage?" + +That Louie did not mind doing, more or less. "And now I must go back," +she said, rising. + +"I'll walk back a bit of the way with you. I'm not going to let you go +like this." + +At the little drinking-fountain she stopped. "Don't make it harder," +she said. He had been indicating the rabble of children. + +"But look at 'em, poor little beggars!" he said. "Dash it all, I'm not +just blowing off--I _could_ do such lots for him--he could ride--and +shoot--and fish--and I've a corking little pony at grass now." He +mentioned these things one after the other, slowly, as they occurred +to him. + +Louie groaned inwardly, but aloud she said: "Please don't come any +farther. Good-bye." + +"But I may come again? You see, I jolly well know I could persuade +you." + +"N-o----" + +"I shall, though--you bet," Roy announced. + +She left him, wondering whether it would have made any difference at +all had he, in asking her to marry him, told her once, even once, that +he loved her. + +But she did not return home. Instead, she walked past the block of +flats, crossed Putney Bridge, and sought her old Nursing Home in +Mortlake Road. As a drunkard might pant for a drink, so now in her +extremity she wanted to hear gaiety and laughter and talk. Though she +paid for it in prostration afterwards, she felt that without some such +intermission she could never get through the night. And to-morrow was +that dead day, Sunday. Further than that she did not see; beyond the +anodyne of an ordinary human laugh she did not inquire. It seemed to +her a matter of the last moment to herself that Miss Dot and Miss Cora +should be at home; if they were not, she felt that she must walk +straight into a public-house, as a man might, and get herself +something to drink. + +But Miss Cora and Miss Dot were at home; they had just come in from a +matinee. They made an onslaught on Louie. Had she seen the piece? Oh, +the funniest thing! They really had had some luck at the theatre at +last! The last time it had been a slum piece, all heartstrings and +gutter-snipes; and the time before that--would Louie believe it!--just +when they had expected to see frocks and dancing and suchlike, the +curtain had gone up on a dentist's parlour! Two half-crowns for seats +in the pit for that! It was almost like paying money to go and see +another Nursing Home! + +"But give the poor girl some tea--what are we thinking of!" said Miss +Cora. + +"No, thanks--I've given two people tea this afternoon already," said +Louie. "Tell me about the play." + +And, both speaking at once, they told her about the play--_such_ a +frock as Ellaline Terriss had worn!--an e-_nor_-mous pink hat, pink +like a rabbit's ear, and a frock, chiffon over pink satin. + +Ah! That was better! + +"But where's my bonnie boy?" Miss Cora demanded. + +"Oh, let's show her the new one, the little Crowley baby!" + +The little Crowley baby was brought in.... + +"May I invite myself to supper?" Louie asked by-and-by. + +"Oh, do stop!" + +"Then give me some stout or something. I'm not sleeping very well." + +"Oh, we'll see that's all right----" + +And when, at ten o'clock, Louie left, it was with a sleeping +preparation in her pocket. She took it in bed. It did its work. Half +Sunday had passed when next she awoke. + +On the Sunday afternoon she went with Jimmy and Rhoda to Bishops Park; +then, packing them off home, she crossed the bridge again and took the +bus to Buck's. At Buck's she again stayed until ten, and she smiled +as, on the way home again, she remembered the little party to which +Chaff had once taken her, pigtail and all. If Chaff had had a little +party that night she would have invited herself to it; it would have +been something to do. Although it was half-past eleven when she +reached her own door she was not in the least tired; had she not slept +until well after midday? She walked back to Putney Bridge again. There +a man spoke to her. She wondered what he would have said had she +stopped; it would have been amusing to know. She felt that she had not +had enough amusement. She wished she could have gone back to the +Business School in Holborn again. That had been amusing. Mr. Mackie +had been very amusing. One of his songs, he had said, that about the +Gorgonzola Cheese, never failed to create merriment. + +She hummed as much as she could remember of the air of it as she +walked, and took two more of Miss Cora's sleeping-tablets before going +to bed. + +She found, too, an entirely unexpected amount of amusement at the +Consolidation on the Monday morning. Not that everything was not much +as usual; the routine was the same; but a quite comic spirit seemed to +pervade the whole place. Lacking a Mr. Mackie, Sir Julius, dapper and +perfect in his aplomb, who had thought of asking her to be his +mistress but had found a more profitable use to put her to, seemed +somehow as funny as needs be; she wondered she had not noticed it +before. It happened that Mr. Stonor had to rebuke one of the telephone +girls that morning; there was diversion in the way in which the girl +tossed her dolly-capped head and told him that she would talk to her +"boys" if she liked. Quite right; that was the way to take things, as +a joke. And Mr. Whitlock was portentously funny over a nought or so +that had strayed into a pile of figures; and the glazed screen that +marked Louie's superiority to the other girls in the same room seemed +inanimately funny, and Jim himself was funny, when you came to think +of it, sitting invisible there in his room with people coming and +going all the time, as if the earth would have ceased to revolve on +her axis or the sun have omitted to rise if Jim had not rung bells and +jotted his initials on his bits of paper. And funnier than everything +else was the fact that Louie should be there at all. She laughed +outright when, at nine o'clock that night (she had been kept on +account of some urgent joke or other), she stepped from the +upholstered lift and out into Pall Mall. + +Again she wished that Chaff had had a little party somewhere. Jim, she +understood from Mr. Stonor, was giving a party presently, not a little +one, but a large, probably a screamingly funny, one. But its humour +would probably be lost on Jim. Jim did not always see jokes; that was +where Jim had made the mistake; he needed somebody to point them out +to him. His wife, being part of the comedy herself, naturally could +not do so; she cried when she should have laughed; she had no "kick," +no "buck," in her. It was a pity, for Jim needed these things, and +ought to have married a woman who had them. Well, it was rather late, +but not too late for Louie to go into a shilling gallery somewhere. +To-morrow, if she could get away early, she would go up to Camden Town +and see Billy. Billy was a joke too, spending whole, real days in +making artificial coloured shapes on canvases or solemnly scratching +his copper plates. One of the best things Billy had ever done a woman +had humorously kicked aside with her foot. That showed what these +things were worth in the big, big world. Of course a sense of humour +was really a sense of proportion. The dreadful lack of it showed when +people magnified trifles so. Yes, she would go and see Billy +to-morrow. To-night, the theatre gallery. + +She found Billy on the following evening, still etching, the humorous +fellow, but amusingly grave too. Perhaps he had heard, or guessed, +something from Roy. He was dissolving the ground from a plate; Louie +wondered what the curiously sweet-smelling fluid he was using was; +and then she remembered. She had smelt that same smell when Jimmy had +been born--which event also, by the way, had been the consequence of a +lark. She remembered, too, the wonderful, releasing sleep that +heavy-smelling stuff had given her. It might be rather a useful thing +to know where to find that stuff; it was necessary to Louie's +enjoyment of the world and its humour that she should sleep at night. +It struck her as a very happy chance that chloroform should be used in +the practice of etching. She admitted that it was rather a shame to +steal from Billy again, but she felt that she now needed that +wonderful, releasing sleep even more than when Jimmy had been born. + +An hour later she left Billy's with the ribbed blue bottle in her +pocket. + +The remainder of the week also was gay; so was the next week, though +perhaps with a slightly diminishing gaiety. But the level was restored +again when Roy once more turned up at her flat, again on a Saturday +afternoon. Really she could have laughed, as they say, fit to split. +Roy, who seemed to think that you could ask a woman to marry you +without the--formality, call it--of telling her you loved her! It was +not for Louie to spoil the sport by pointing out the inessential +omission. Not that she hesitated at all now; she had only to think of +how it might have read in the paper: "At Saint So-and-So's, on such +and such a date, by a Reverend Statue, assisted by another Reverend +Effigy, a Tanagra Figure, to a trodden-on Painting by Billy Izzard," +etc., etc. Oh no. That wasn't loving---- + +There was no doubt that Roy loved Jimmy, however; and that was perhaps +a little more serious. He had handed in his papers; he could provide +for Jimmy; there was riding, and shooting, and fishing, and the +corking little pony; but ... it was impossible, of course. Jimmy was +Louie's and nobody else's. If Jimmy must play on Saturday afternoons +with the rabble on Eelbrook Common, well, he must; Louie would do all +for him that she could. It was a pity--especially about the pony. It +disturbed Louie a little. It disturbed her, in fact, so much that that +night she remembered something she had forgotten about for ten days +and more--the blue ribbed bottle she had stolen from Billy. But as she +had left it in her drawer at the Consolidation she had to sleep as +best she could without it. Perhaps it was just as well. It was not a +good habit. She wondered whether Billy had missed the bottle; she +would go up again and see, taking that old painting with her. That +would square accounts a little. Certainly it was a shame to loot Billy +like that. + +She went up to Billy's with the study. Billy received it absently. And +she was glad that Billy had a code, for he was grave again, and seemed +all but on the point of talking seriously to her, code or none. But it +blew over. He asked her whether she'd noticed him with a bottle of +chloroform one night; he'd lost one; stupid thing to be careless +about; must be somewhere; had Louie seen him with it, cleaning a +plate?---- + +"No," said Louie. + +"Well, it may turn up. Thanks for the canvas. To tell you the truth I +rather wanted it. Merely as painting it's--_knuk_!" Billy made a +delectable little foreign gesture. + +"I'm no judge of things as painting," said Louie. "And--I +say--Billy----" + +"What?" + +"I don't know that I haven't changed my mind about not sitting--if you +asked me very nicely----" + +But Billy looked gravely at her again. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I'd +rather you didn't. I think I can manage. You'd do far better----" + +He looked hard at her, but the code held. + +"To do what?" said Louie. + +"Well, not to sit," said Billy, turning away. + +Louie felt ridiculously touched; nevertheless, much as she liked his +loyalty, she wasn't going to talk about Roy. "Thanks, Bill," she said +simply. "You're a good sort." And there the matter dropped. Neither +for Billy nor for anybody else did she ever sit again. + +It seemed strange that so slight a thing as an indisposition of Mr. +Stonor should obscure the mock-sun of Louie's gaiety as if a vapour +had crept across it; but so it was. Occasionally urgent messages were +taken to Iddesleigh Gate at night; usually Mr. Stonor took them; but +one day Mr. Stonor left at lunch-time and did not come back that day. +Sir Julius himself, who had had dinner sent in that night from a +restaurant, sent for Louie and gave her certain papers and +instructions. As soon as she learned the errand she asked whether +nobody else could go instead. She invented an improbable engagement. + +"I'm sorry," Sir Julius said, "but I want Whitlock--I shall have to +wait here myself till you come back. If you could go, and give them to +Mr. Jeffries himself--nobody else----" That was as near as Sir Julius +ever came to a direct command. + +So, as Evie Jeffries had seen Louie's home, Louie was now to see hers. + +She went reluctantly, by bus, changing at the bottom of Park Lane. +For days she had not seen Jim; she did not want to see him now. +Therefore, though go she must, she would not sit down; she would not +lift her veil; she would be in and out of his house again as quickly +as ever she could. She passed the Marble Arch, and at Lancaster Gate +got down and walked. She reached Jim's vast and tomblike house. + +At the word "Consolidation" the man who opened the door said: "This +way, please," and led her along a low-lighted hall, round a staircase +the outspread double wings of which resembled some huge alighting +architectural bird, and along a narrower passage to the library. At +the touch of a switch the room broke into a softly masked glow of +light. "Please to sit down," said the servant; but Louie stood by the +great writing-table, looking towards the door. Evie had taken stock of +her dwelling; Louie looked only towards the door of Jim's library. + +Then, as the door was opened, she pushed up her veil after all. Jim +came in. + +He placed a chair for her; she still refused to sit. She continued to +stand even when it appeared that the papers she had brought would +require some examination. As she stood, a bell, not unlike that of a +muffled telephone, sounded for a moment and then ceased. It was +followed by a tap on the door. + +"Come in," said Jim, without looking up. + +Evie Jeffries entered, dressed as if for a State ball. + +Even had Louie not seen her face, the touch of her hand would have +told her what had happened. Evie was back again exactly where she had +been; the only difference was that she now hated Louie the more that +she had abased herself before her. Many times on that other Saturday +afternoon Louie had begged Evie to go; now she longed to fly herself. +After another minute Jim put it into her power to do so. He rose and +returned the signed papers. + +"Thank you," he said, and added, turning to Evie, "I don't know +whether Miss Causton's had supper?" + +Evie's face lighted up as artificially as if there too a switch had +turned up masked lights. + +"Yes; won't you let me have them lay a tray for you, 'Miss' Causton? +It won't be any trouble," she said. + +"No, thank you," said Louie. "Please don't come to the door, Mr. +Jeffries." + +He came, however. + +"Good-night," he said, as the door was held open for her to pass out. + +"Good-night," said Louie. + +She remembered afterwards that she noticed, out in Oxford Street +again, a sandwichman bearing an illuminated board with the +announcement of some concert or entertainment upon it. Pasted across +the device was a strip of paper with the words "To night" upon it. The +date was the sixteenth of May. At midday on the day following, Louie, +coming out of Mr. Whitlock's room, saw Jim advancing as if to come in. +He saw her, stared hard at her for a moment, paused irresolutely, and +then turned abruptly and walked away again. She watched his back, +shaped like a church-door, but bowed as if with a load too great for +him, disappear in the direction of his own room. He had made no +attempt to conceal the deliberate avoidance. She half expected, though +she knew not why, that he would send for her presently. He did not. +She was infinitely glad. Something, she was perfectly sure, had +happened between him and his wife. It was the first time he had not +sought her aid. Had he, now that it was too late, told her? Had he +realised that it was too late to tell her? Had he, realising this, +determined to take his last risk and to tell her nevertheless? Or had +something happened that had at last unsealed his eyes so that he now +saw with a clearness as merciless as that of Louie herself? + +Louie could not tell. She only saw his face again, the face of a man +suddenly old as he realised his defeat, and his disappearing back, +hunched under a burden that was crushing him at the last. + + +Sec._b_ + +"If I were you, Miss Causton, I should leave early to-night," said Mr. +Whitlock that afternoon. + +Louie looked up inquiringly from her desk. + +"Oh, if you _want_ to make it a matter of conscience! But Mr. Jeffries +is giving a party to-night, and both Sir Julius and I will be leaving +early." + +He nodded pleasantly as he dropped his hint, and left her. Louie +resumed her work. + +It was a report of phosphate deposits, but it had been worked over +before and needed little attention; or at all events it got little. At +five o'clock Louie gathered the sheets together and put them into the +drawer of her table. As she did so some object at the back of the +drawer knocked. She thrust in her hand. It was the forgotten bottle of +chloroform. + +"I'd better throw that down the basin," Louie muttered. + +"I think, Mrs. Jeffries, that you and Roy between you put me a little +beside myself for a day or two. Much better not to have things like +that lying about; to have 'em's sometimes to use 'em. I'll throw it +away now." + +But as she was rising, one of the telephone girls brought her a cup of +tea and a biscuit, and she closed the drawer again. The girl began to +talk. She was Ivy Warner, the operator who would talk to her "boys" +over the telephone if she wanted. Louie, as a matter of fact, always +admired the skill with which she did this. A yard away not a word +would be audible, and yet Miss Warner would be carrying on a +flirtation in Brighton or Bournemouth under the eye of Mr. Stonor +himself. + +"Well, how's Harold?" said Louie, smiling over her cup of tea. + +"Oh, not at all pleased with himself; backed three winners to-day, one +at thirty to one, a gift; like to see him? He's coming up this +evening," Miss Warner replied. "I'd a chin with him a quarter of an +hour ago; dinner at seven-thirty, at the Troc; no steak-and-fried and +a small dark lager when a thirty-to-one creeps home! He's bringing a +friend, too; a dasher, Harold says; he's almost afraid to introduce +him; and Daisy says she really must give her steady a show to-night. +Know anybody?" + +Louie thought for a moment. It was a thing she had never done before. +She gave Ivy a sidelong look. Again she had the hunger to go +somewhere, to see lights, hear music, smell the cigarettes of men. + +"Do you care to take me?" she said. + +Ivy was surprised. "You?" + +"Oh, not if I should spoil sport----" + +"Rather not! Do come! What a lark! I'll get on to Harold again now. +You really mean it?" + +"Yes." + +"Good egg!" cried Ivy, glad to make up her party and to improve her +relations with her business superior at the same time. "I didn't +really want Daisy, you see. Of course they do talk loud at the Troc, +but Daisy's just a _ti_ny bit ... well, a perfect stranger had the +cheek to come up to our table and speak to her the last time----" + +Ivy ran jubilantly off to ring up Harold again. + +Louie told herself it was a stupid thing to do; she was getting into +the habit of loitering about late at night, heedless of Jimmy. But she +had promised, and would go. If she didn't she would only be mopishly +thinking, and, after all, she would be no more out of place with +Harold's dashing friend than Evie Jeffries would be in another place +much about the same time. Perhaps the dasher for Evie and Jim's guests +for herself would have been more fitting, but no matter. She would be +a dasher too. She wondered how Ivy was describing her dashing self to +Harold over the telephone. + +At seven o'clock she made herself ready and left the Consolidation +with Ivy. + +She retained no very clear recollection afterwards of the gaieties of +that evening, but the little she did remember arrested her a little. +She had a confused impression of the lights and tables and pilastered +walls of the Trocadero as of a bright beckoning vista, stretching +before her as the white road stretches before the knapsacked and +stout-booted walker. She knew that many girls went that way.... The +air was heavy with the smell of coffee, smoke, dishes, scent; Harold's +friend was a Hebrew "killer," and reminded her of Miss Levey; noisily +he claimed the privilege, which Harold noisily disputed, of paying for +everything; and the waiter contemptuously accepted a tip of a +sovereign from him. Perhaps he was the same cavalier who had resented +Daisy's loudness; at all events he appeared to find in Louie's +quietness another--or perhaps the same--meaning; and Louie had to move +her chair and to change her attitude at the table. Afterwards they +went to the Alhambra; it was Ivy who cried out at the sight of two +cabs and refused to go unless they all went together. At the Alhambra +Louie was afraid she was rather a wet blanket; she declined to "take a +walk round" and remained seated in her stall; but Harold's friend was +fickle as well as dashing, for by-and-by she had a glimpse of him with +another lady, who had not dined with them at the Trocadero. She +wondered how Evie Jeffries had got on--or "got off," to use an +expression of Kitty Windus's. + +Suddenly--perhaps it was this thought of Evie elsewhere that did +it--she got up, sought the cloakroom, and walked out of the place. She +went home, once more quietly and steadily thinking of that vista of +lights and cigar smoke and laughing mouths and gilded pilasters--the +way so many girls went. + +The row she expected with Ivy in the morning was not a moment delayed. +It began in the lift in which they both happened to ascend together. + +"Good-morning," said Ivy stiffly. "I hope you got home in good time +last night." + +Louie waited until the liftman had clashed the doors to behind them; +then, "I'd a headache," she said. + +"Well, perhaps it's better than having one in the morning," said Ivy, +more icily still. "All the same, there is such a thing as playing the +game when you go out with people." + +"I'm sorry. I oughtn't to have come," said Louie, walking with the +angry girl to the telephone exchange, where the lights on the great +switchboard came and went like the sparks at the back of a gate. They +were coming and going with great rapidity that morning. + +"Oh, _much_ obliged for your company, I'm sure," Ivy broke out, +"but----" + +"Sssh!" came from a girl who stretched the rubber worms. + +"Sssh yourself, Daisy Dawson--time you knew how to speak into a phone +by this time!" snapped Ivy. + +But another and a louder "Sssh!" came from another girl, and suddenly +Mr. Stonor's head appeared in the doorway. + +"Quiet there!" he rapped out, and withdrew his head again. + +"Sssh, Ivy--haven't you heard?" Daisy Dawson said softly. + +Ivy's own voice dropped. "What?" she asked quickly. + +"About Mr. Jeffries." + +"No--what?" + +Mr. Stonor came in again--but not before Louie had heard Daisy whisper +the word "dead." + +Suddenly she remembered the face of the liftman. She clutched Mr. +Stonor's arm. He looked at her. There was no need to ask. + +Dead! + +Slowly she walked to her own table behind the screen. + +The place was at once busier and more hushed than usual. Presently Mr. +Whitlock passed. Mr. Whitlock was thirty-five; he looked fifty. Louie +only asked him a single question: "Is it in the papers?" He nodded and +passed on. She sought a messenger. + +It was on the right-hand middle page. It had happened at one o'clock +in the morning; cerebral haemorrhage. That very evening he had given a +dinner-party; followed a short interview with Sir Peregrine Campbell, +one of the guests; but Mr. Robson, of the Board of Trade, had declined +to be seen. There would be no inquest. Heartfelt sympathy was extended +to his widow. Half-a-column of "career" closed the announcement. The +early edition of the evening paper for which she sent out had it all +over again. + +Dead! + +Another absence! + +Slowly she turned the paper and began at the beginning again. + +Jim dead! + + * * * * * + +That night Louie fetched Jimmy from his cot into her own bed. It was +not, she felt, for comfort for herself; she had a strange feeling that +she ought to be comforting Jimmy. Jimmy slept, but, her eyes +alternately very widely open and very tightly closed in the dark, she +whispered to him. + +"Well, we've got to look after ourselves now," she whispered to the +sleeping child. "I don't think we care to go and see him, do we? I +daresay she wouldn't refuse it, but we won't go. That was his wife, +who said she'd a little boy like you, and of course we're all very +sorry for her. She did give him all she had; she said she'd die for +him; but of course that's only a way people have of speaking when they +mean they love somebody very much. Nobody wants her to die for him +really; that would only be two dead instead of one; and she won't +actually die.... And she'd a sad thing happen once before. Nobody ever +knew about that really except me and him; she didn't know; if she did +she might die really then. People have to be careful, they say, when +they've once had a terrible shock. It's rather funny though, Jimmy, +that mother shouldn't feel very much of a shock. Of course I didn't +expect it, but as soon as it happened it seemed as if it had been +bound to happen. That's queer--and I don't know that I wouldn't have +preferred the shock." + +She continued her curious consolation of the sleeping boy: + +"Poor Jimmy--poor mother! He looked beaten yesterday--done--but I +didn't think.... One never does think till afterwards.... Ah, but +mother did, once, a long time ago! Mother danced with him once, and +knew then--and the next time she saw him Jimmy was quite a big boy. If +she could only have seen him a few times in between, she doesn't know +what she could have done, but she would have done something, and then +by-and-by he would have blessed her for it--she's sure, quite sure he +would.... And there she was, with some terrible people at a music +hall----" + +She choked a little. + +Even had it been proposed to her, she did not think she would have +gone to see Jim. That was another woman's affair; Louie's part in him +had nothing to do with what remained now. Not that she was so absurd +as to tell herself she had lost nothing; even when it is only yours to +look at, or perhaps to put your arms about just once, a body counts +for something; but the other woman had had nothing but that. "Nothing +but" was perhaps a queer way of putting it; for that "nothing but" +Louie might perhaps have given all the rest; but all the same it was +not very much her business now. Her business now, like the other +woman's, was to jog on just the same, the one in her empty mansion, +the other one it didn't much matter where. Again she whispered to +Jimmy. + +"How thankful I am that I didn't tell her--something! Oh, I don't +think I could bear her to die for him as she said she would! And I do +hope he's not been so foolish as to--leave anything about; anything +that might tell her, I mean; she can't bear what I can bear. But he +wouldn't. He wouldn't cover it all up so cleverly to go and uncover it +himself. I always knew it would happen if that insect got in his way; +Jim wouldn't think twice about it, except how to make himself safe.... +Was it Kitty Windus who told me that about him--about his father +having been an English merchant captain and his mother a Corsican +woman he found dancing in a sailors' cafe in Marseilles? If it wasn't +Kitty I dreamed it; mother's done a most foolish lot of dreaming; but +it must have been Kitty. They say they do that kind of thing in +Corsica. I shall never know.... Well, it doesn't matter.... Poor +little Jimmy...." + +She deliberately tried herself, to see whether she was capable of +emotion about him. She seemed to be quite incapable. "I'm simply +callous," she thought.... She tried several days later, on the day of +his funeral; the words she repeated to herself had no meaning for her; +"gone," was merely a thing of four letters, "never" one of five. The +word "absence" she quite failed to understand. She heard that Mrs. +Jeffries was prostrated, but quite as well as could be expected in the +circumstances. Perhaps Mrs. Jeffries too was repeating the words +"gone" and "never." Louie wondered whether she would marry again. It +would not surprise her. + +Well, if Evie Jeffries could live, Louie could live. + +A piece of news, however, which she had from Billy Izzard one +night--this was three weeks later, but her stony insensibility had not +changed--filled her, she could not have told why, with a quite +different disquietude. It appeared that Billy had felt himself +permitted to call on Mrs. Jeffries, and had found her (so he told +Louie) busy with her husband's private papers. Sir Julius also had +been there, to advise if advice was necessary; and Sir Julius had been +of opinion that the painful task would be more quickly over if Mrs. +Jeffries would have a number of papers that were written in shorthand +transcribed by a clerk, if a trustworthy one could be found. "In fact, +he mentioned your name," said Billy. But it appeared that Mrs. +Jeffries knew some shorthand, had other reasons, and so forth. She had +refused to have the papers transcribed. Naturally they had not said +much with Billy there, who, indeed, had not stayed many minutes; but +he had gathered that the papers formed some sort of a journal. + +Louie felt her flesh grow queerly crisp. This, by the way, was in a +little restaurant not far from the Palace Theatre. Louie had had three +consecutive nights at home, and felt that a fourth would kill her. She +and Billy were going to the Palace afterwards. + +"A journal?" she said slowly. + +"Well, Pepper rather thought a novel of some sort; I'd a talk with him +afterwards; but I suppose he only knows what Mrs. Jeffries tells him. +It wouldn't surprise me in the least that poor old Jeff dabbled a bit +in that sort of thing. I'm quite sure he'd have made a painter. One of +the big sort he was, the Titian, Leonardo, Cellini sort--the big men, +who can take an art or so in their stride." + +"What made Sir Julius think it might be a novel?" Louie hoped that her +new agitation did not show. + +"My dear girl, you know as much about it as I do." + +"And it was in shorthand?" she demanded. + +"Yes." + +"His own?" + +"I'm sure I can't say. It was in his desk though. Why?" + +"And you say Mrs. Jeffries is reading it herself?" + +"Well, when Pepper suggested you--and a Miss Levey, I remember, +whoever she is----" + +"Miriam Levey? Yes?" Louie said, with a jerk. + +Billy looked hard at her. "What's the matter?" he said abruptly. +"You're as queer as Mrs. Jeffries herself was about it." + +"She was queer? How, queer?" + +"Oh, I don't know. How can one describe things like that--just +impressions one gets?" + +"Did she strike you as queer because she'd perhaps read some of it?" + +"Well, I understand it was private----" + +"You mean she _must_ have read some of it to find that out?" + +"I suppose so." + +Again Louie had that curious crawling of her flesh. She hesitated for +a moment; then, slowly: + +"What sort of terms are you on with Mrs. Jeffries, Billy?" + +Billy stared. "Oh, quite all right--I don't understand----" + +"Have you any influence over her?" + +"What sort of influence?" + +Louie hesitated again. After all, it might be only a fear. She went +on. "Say influence enough to advise her about reading that journal, or +novel, or whatever it is?" + +"Lord, no!" said Billy. "I was his friend, hardly hers, you see." + +"Well, if it could be put as a matter of friendship with him?" Louie +was speaking almost feverishly now. + +"I wish I knew exactly what you meant," said Billy. + +"Order me another cup of coffee. That's what I can't tell you, because +I don't know myself. But let me ask another question. Do you happen to +know whether there are any real names in this thing, whatever it is?" + +"Really, I----" + +"Just a moment. I'll tell you why I asked. If this is a journal, and +has names of people in it, the chances are mine's there." + +Billy was quick enough. He nodded. "I see; at least I think I see. You +mean about his coming in that night and Mrs. Jeffries possibly not +liking it? Well, to tell the truth I don't think she did much. I could +have bitten my tongue out when I'd told her; but I suppose everybody +doesn't look on these things quite as we do. You mean in a +word--excuse me for putting it rather stupidly--that she's jealous and +thinks she can find out the truth? Supposing there was any 'truth' to +find out, I mean?" + +"That's the idea. Of course there was no 'truth.'" + +"Well? Why not let her discover that and make her happy, poor thing? +You see, he was her husband." + +Louie winced, but continued. "That's all right as far as it goes; but +if there's one name there are probably others." + +Billy looked sharply at her. "Other women? Jeffries? Don't you believe +it!" + +"I didn't say women." + +"What then?" + +"I can't tell you. And perhaps I'm altogether wrong. But if I'm not +wrong, Billy," she said earnestly, "and you've any interest in Mrs. +Jeffries at all--say interest enough to want to spare her a shock--she +oughtn't to be allowed to read that journal--always supposing it is a +journal." + +Billy gave a short laugh. "Really, Louie! Is this the Surrey or +Sadlers Wells?... You're not serious, are you? Of course it's bound to +be painful for her at the best, but she's getting on very well--better +than we could have hoped." + +Louie made a little despairing gesture. "Well, I can't tell you any +more." + +"Well, if it's as important as all that, why don't _you_ tell her?" + +"I couldn't do that either. Look here, Billy, couldn't you find out +about this for me?" + +"Oh, dash it all--how can I?" + +The saucer of Louie's coffee cup was full of ashes; she added another +butt and reached for Billy's case. She looked Billy full in the eyes +as he struck a match for her. + +"Do you go much to Iddlesleigh Gate?" + +"Well, just at present, you see----" + +"I mean, _could_ you go? Where does all this take place? In that +library? (Yes, I've been once.)" + +"Yes. At least that's where we were that night." + +Still Louie looked steadily into his eyes. "Now this really _is_ +Surrey and Sadlers Wells," she said. "Could you get those papers out +of her way--anyhow--so that she doesn't read them?" + +Billy twinkled a little. "It takes a woman to do these things, Louie." + +"Suppose without asking any questions, if you did I'd--marry Roy?" +After all, to marry Roy would be no worse than anything else now. + +The twinkle disappeared. Billy was grave again. + +"I'd like you to marry Roy, Louie." + +"Well ... is it a bet?" + +But Billy only shook his head. This was all very well at the Surrey +and Sadlers Wells, but---- + +"It's a physical impossibility," he said. "And if it wasn't, I +wouldn't." + +"That's final?" said Louie, looking into his eyes for the last time. + +"My dear girl----" + +Louie rose. "All right. Then we may as well get across to the Palace +and see Marie Lloyd." + +Could she have said more? She did not see that she could. The chance +loomed tremendously large now that Jim _had_ been fool enough to write +things after all, and perhaps his wife was reading that journal, if it +was a journal, even then---- + +Louie could not stop her--no power on earth could stop her. What Jim +had evidently not told her during his life she would read for herself +now that he had gone. + +He would have done better to tell her. + +But there: perhaps it was not a journal---- + + + + +ENVOI + + +"Er--Miss Causton," Sir Julius called--"can you stay for an hour or +so? No, a private affair; I hope it's not inconvenient; thanks." + +He was sickly white and tired-looking; Louie's feet dragged, and her +brain was as stupid as clay. She was sorry for Sir Julius; _he_ had +had no preparation; as for Louie, it seemed to her now that she had +been passing from preparation to preparation for such things for the +whole of her life. This of the morning paper was only the latest of +her fulfilments. The prophets, she thought dully, must have been very +weary men.... But on second thoughts perhaps Sir Julius ought to have +been sorry for _her_. Even shock is better than foreknowledge. + +For of course Sir Julius wanted her to stay in connection with this of +Mrs. Jeffries. + +She had put on her hat and coat for departure; as if she walked in her +sleep, she passed out of Sir Julius's room and removed them again. She +bathed her face, but felt little fresher; then she returned. + +It was about Mrs. Jeffries. It was about them both. Then Louie seemed +to remember that Sir Julius had said something about an article on his +deceased colleague for a Review. She supposed that was why he wanted +her to take down his words in shorthand. Unless it was for the +inquest. Gas-taps turned on, doors and windows sealed, and so forth +usually meant an inquest; and they would not have far to look for her +motive--suicide through natural grief. It was only that morning, but +it seemed an old, old story already. + +"'_Tragic Death of a Lady_,'" Sir Julius read out from a newspaper.... + +Well, he wouldn't want that part taken down; indeed, if he had only +known what Louie knew, he would not have asked her to take anything +down at all. But her notebook was on her knee and her pencil +sharpened, and when Sir Julius had finished reading her hand began to +write, purely functionally, of itself. It was no trouble to Louie +whatever; nay, her hand was hardly called upon more than her mind; the +pencil itself did it. After all, foreseeing minds could be put to +better uses than the mere recording of things after the event.... "Sad +business, sad business," Sir Julius was saying; and "Sad business, sad +business," the obedient pencil wrote. But Louie wondered whether it +was so sad after all. Evie Jeffries had had a sort of foreknowledge +too; "I could die for him; you couldn't do more," Louie remembered she +had once said; yet it was doubtful whether she had died for love of +him after all. Call it gas-taps, or the shock of discovering that Jim +had been her lover's executioner.... + +Still, she had died, from whatever reason, and she had been quite +right in saying that Louie could have done no more. + +It was strange the way the pencil wrote of itself. "A page of notes in +her husband's shorthand has been found under one of the pillars of the +writing-table," it wrote, and it omitted, as if it had been endowed +with Louie's own intelligence, Sir Julius's interpolated remark, "I've +got that page of notes, by the way." Mr. Whitlock had described to +Louie one day a contrivance called a tele-writer; a pen dipped itself +into a bottle of ink and wrote, unassisted, a telegraphed message; +they were new, and they hadn't got them at the Consolidation yet; but +they were putting them into some of the post offices, Mr. Whitlock had +said. Her pencil moved like the pen of a tele-writer. She watched it, +fascinated. It was writing as Sir Julius talked, about Jim now. + +"--lived an intense crowded life too. I should say at a guess there +weren't many things he hadn't done at one time and another, short of a +murder or a matrimonial infidelity. Don't think he could have been +tempted to do that. One woman could do anything she liked with him, +but the others wouldn't have much chance----" + +Very little chance, Louie thought. That, in a sense, had been the +tragedy of it all. Louie knew more about that than Sir Julius; Louie +had once said, "Come, come!" to him, in tones that might have brought +angels from above and devils from below running for love, but it had +not made a ha'p'orth of difference to Jim. Sir Julius seemed to be +praising him for it; Louie was not sure that she could exactly do +that; she could almost as soon have mocked him for it; but you neither +mock nor praise a blind man merely because he is blind. It was funny +that Sir Julius, with not very much to boast about himself, should set +up an idol of faithfulness; and not just for somebody else to worship +either; that was the funny part; men did that kind of thing; sinned, +and yet worshipped, and called it "the maintenance of an ideal." They +honoured Joseph, and winked when his back was turned. Perhaps they +made much of him because of his rarity. Well, it was all the same to +Potiphar's wife.... + +But all at once something seemed to have happened to the pencil. It +was tele-writing very furiously. Sir Julius was reading from another +piece of paper; Louie fancied, somehow, that it might be the piece +that had got wafted under the pillar of Jim's desk. + + "_--show him that red thing on the floor and that curved thing on + the door._" + + _But now Archie in his turn seemed to have become divided. He had + turned suddenly white. But an habitual pertness still persisted + in his tongue. I don't think this had any relation whatever to + the physical peril he seemed at last to have realised he was in. + I stood over him huge and black as Fate.... "Spare him if you + can," that generous bloodthirsty devil in me muttered + quickly...._ + + "_Merridew," I said heavily, "you'll disappear to-morrow + morning--or----_" + + "_Shall I?" he bragged falteringly...._ + +He seemed to have hanged him, then; "that curved thing on the door" +evidently meant a hook. That was rather revolting; these were the +things about murder that Louie had not wanted to know. + +"Sort of grim tale he would write," said Sir Julius to the pencil; +"and of course--_de mortuis_ and so on--but he did marry the wrong +woman. I suppose they're together again now." + +Suddenly Louie put down her notebook and pencil. Her voice, too, as +she spoke, seemed to her a sort of tele-voice. + +"Will you excuse me just a moment?" she said. "I'm thirsty." + +She went out. When she returned, three or four minutes later, Sir +Julius sniffed once or twice and asked her if she had a toothache. She +took up the pencil and notebook again. Sir Julius resumed. + +"What was I saying? Oh yes, about his marrying the wrong woman.... But +he was a mass of contradictions, and one of 'em was that he merely +idealised her. Pretty, of course, but poor Jeffries could have done +better for himself than that. She never could bear me...." + +Louie felt no difference yet; she did not know how long these things +took. For a moment she wondered what would happen after ... and then +it struck her as foolish to wonder about a thing she would know so +soon. She fastened her eyes on the pencil again. It went on writing, +and Louie was thinking of her loved little Jimmy now.... She could not +have done very much for him; he might even have grown up to bear her +some sort of a grudge; Roy would adopt him; he would be far, far +better with Roy. There was a pony out at grass for him now; he would +ride and shoot and fish, and his father would send him into the army; +and perhaps there was already a baby girl somewhere in the world who +would one day be his wife--the right wife. "Was die Mutter traeumt, das +vollbringt der Sohn...." + +It was far, far better.... + +"Well," the pencil wrote, "there's nothing to be said now, poor +creatures.... Funny smell in here, Miss Causton; I'll smoke if you +don't mind." + +Sir Julius lighted a cigar. Its penetrating odour mingled with that of +the sweet, releasing stuff. + +Ah! It was coming! The pencil wrote no less quickly, but it looked a +little smaller and farther away. + +"But sometimes it made me almost angry that he hadn't married the +woman he ought...." + +Louie felt her head sinking.... Yes, the woman he ought.... + +That had been the real fatality.... + +Her lids dropped for a moment, and then heavily lifted again; but she +could still see the pencil--mistily--dreamily--as if endued with a +life not her own--flying on. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Louie, by Oliver Onions + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF LOUIE *** + +***** This file should be named 37838.txt or 37838.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/8/3/37838/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Melissa McDaniel and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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