§
Sally came back, and Mr. Pinner, inspired, lifted a finger, said ‘’Ark,’ gave them to understand he heard a customer, without actually saying he did, which would have been a lie, and went away into the shop.
Sally stood there, feeling awkward. Jocelyn had got up directly she came in, and she supposed he was going to wish her a good evening and go; but he didn’t. She therefore stood first on one foot and then on the other, and felt awkward.
‘Won’t you,’ Jocelyn breathed, stretching out a hand of trembling entreaty, for he was afraid she might disappear again, ‘won’t you sit down?’
‘Well,’ said Sally shyly, ‘I don’t mind if I do——’ And for the first time Jocelyn heard the phrase he was later on to hear so often, uttered in the accent he was to try so hard to purify.
She sat down on the edge of the chair at the other side of the table. She wasn’t accustomed to sitting idle and didn’t know what to do with her hands, but she was sure it wouldn’t be manners to go on mending socks while a gentleman was in the room.
Jocelyn sat down too, the table between them, the light from the oil lamp hanging from the ceiling beating down on Sally’s head.
‘And Beauty was made flesh, and dwelt among us,’ he murmured, his eyes burning.
‘Pardon?’ said Sally, polite, but wishing her father would come back.
‘You lovely thing—you lovely, lovely thing,’ whispered Jocelyn hoarsely, his eyes like coals of fire.
At this Sally became thoroughly uneasy, and looked at him in real alarm.
‘Don’t be frightened. Your father knows. He says I may——’
‘Father?’ she repeated, much surprised.
‘Yes, yes—I asked him. He says I may. He says I may—may talk to you, make friends with you. That is,’ stammered Jocelyn, overcome by her loveliness, ‘if you’ll let me—oh, if you’ll let me....’
Sally was astonished at her father. ‘Well I never did,’ she murmured courteously. ‘Fancy father.’
‘Why? Why? Don’t you want to? Won’t you—don’t you want to?’
‘Wouldn’t say that,’ said Sally, shifting in her chair, and struggling to find the polite words. ‘Wouldn’t exactly say as ’ow I don’t want to.’
‘Then you—you’ll let me take you out? You’ll let me take you somewhere to tea? You’ll let me fetch you in the car—you’ll let me, won’t you? To-morrow?’ asked Jocelyn, leaning further across the table, his arms stretched along it towards her, reaching out to her in entreaty.
‘Father——’
‘But he says I may. It’s with his permission——’
‘Tea too?’ asked Sally, more and more astonished. ‘It ain’t much like ’im,’ she said, full of doubts.
Whereupon Jocelyn got up impetuously, and came round to her with the intention of flinging himself at her feet, and on his knees beseeching her to come out with him—he who in his life had never been on his knees to anybody.
‘Oh, Salvatia!’ he cried, coming round to her, holding out both his hands.
She hastily pushed back her chair and slipped out of it beyond his reach, sure this wasn’t proper. No gentleman had a right to call a girl by her Christian name without permission asked and granted; on that point she was quite clear. Salvatia, indeed. The gentle creature couldn’t but be affronted and hurt by this.
‘’Oo you gettin’ at, sir?’ she inquired, as in duty bound when faced by familiarity.
‘You—you!’ gasped Jocelyn, following her into the corner she had withdrawn into, and falling at her feet.