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“Oh! you saw that?”
“I did; it oughtn’t to be allowed is what I say.”
“Free speech,” said Di
“No trouble at all, miss. A gentleman, that dog; aren’t you, boy?”
The dog continued to press his chin on Di
When the cab stopped in Cork Street, she took a pencil from her bag, tore off the empty sheet of Wilfrid’s note, and wrote:
“DARLING,—
“As you will. But by these presents know: I am yours for ever and ever. Nothing can or shall divide me from you, unless you stop loving
“Your devoted
“DINNY.
“You won’t do that, will you? Oh! don’t!”
Licking what was left of the gum on the envelope, she put her half sheet in and held it till it stuck. Giving it to Stack, she kissed the dog’s head and said to the driver: “The Park end of Mount Street, please. Good-night, Stack!”
“Good night, miss!”
The eyes and mouth of the motionless henchman seemed to her so full of understanding that she turned her face away. And that was the end of the jaunt she had been so looking forward to.
From the top of Mount Street she crossed into the Park and sat on the seat where she had sat with him before, oblivious of the fact that she was unattached, without a hat, in evening dress, and that it was past eight o’clock. She sat with the collar of her cloak turned up to her chestnut-coloured hair, trying to see his point of view. She saw it very well. Pride! She had enough herself to understand. Not to involve others in one’s troubles was elementary. The fonder one was, the less would one wish to involve them. Curiously ironical how love divided people just when they most needed each other! And no way out, so far as she could see. The strains of the Guards’ band began to reach her faintly. They were playing—Faust?—no—Carmen! Wilfrid’s favourite opera! She got up and walked over the grass towards the sound. What crowds of people! She took a chair some way off and sat down again, close to some rhododendrons. The Habanera! What a shiver its first notes always gave one! How wild, sudden, strange and inescapable was love! ‘L’amour est enfant de Bohème’… ! The rhododendrons were late this year. That deep rosy one! They had it at Condaford… Where was he—oh! where was he at this moment? Why could not love pierce veils, so that in spirit she might walk beside him, slip a hand into his! A spirit hand was better than nothing! And Di
“Could you tell me,” said Di
The woman addressed, she now saw, had a short face with high cheek-bones on which, and round the eyes, was a good deal of make-up. Her lips were good-natured, a little thick; her nose, too, rather thick; her eyes had the look which comes of having to be now stony and now luring, as if they had lost touch with her soul. Her dress was dark and fitted her curves, and she wore a large string of artificial pearls. Di
“There’s a nice little place on the left.”
“Would you care to come and have something with me?” said Di
“Why! I would,” said the woman. “Fact is, I came out without anything. It’s nice to have company, too.” She turned up the King’s Road and Di
‘For God’s sake,’ she thought, ‘be natural!’
The woman led her into a little restaurant, or rather public-house, for it had a bar. There was no one in the eating-room, which had a separate entrance, and they sat down at a small table with a cruet-stand, a handbell, a bottle of Worcester sauce, and in a vase some failing pyrethrums which had never been fresh. There was a slight smell of vinegar.
“I COULD do with a cigarette,” said the woman.
Di
“Any particular sort?”
“Oh! Gaspers.”
A waitress appeared, looked at the woman, looked at Di
“A packet of Players, please. A large coffee for me, strong and fresh, and some cake or buns, or anything. What will you have?”
The woman looked at Di
“Vegetables?” said Di
“Well, a salad, thank you.”
“Good! And pickled walnuts? Will you get it all as quickly as you can, please?”
The waitress passed her tongue over her lips, nodded, and went away.
“I say,” said the woman, suddenly, “it’s awful nice of you, you know.”
“It was so friendly of you to come. I should have felt a bit lost without you.”
“SHE can’t make it out,” said the woman, nodding her head towards the vanished waitress. “To tell you the truth, nor can I.”
“Why? We’re both hungry.”
“No doubt about that,” said the woman; “you’re going to see me eat. I’m glad you ordered pickled walnuts, I never can resist a pickled onion, and it don’t do.”
“I might have thought of cocktails,” murmured Di
“A sherry wouldn’t be amiss. I’ll get ’em.” The woman rose and disappeared into the bar.
Di
The woman came back with two glasses. “I told ’em to charge it to our bill. The liquor’s good here.”