Oblivious of her interruption. But I’d left it too late. The novelty of me had worn off; she’d scores of friends by that time; she’d made her big hit, and followed it with another, and was the talk o’ the town. And she’d money; she wasn’t dependent on me any longer for her gloves and her trips and outings!
Lily.
Her head drooping. Oh! Oh! Wringing her hands. Oh, that’s beastly of you; beastly!
Jeyes.
She was kind to me too, in a way—kind and cruel. She didn’t want to marry me; she didn’t want to marry anybody; she was in love with herself, and her success, and what it was bringing her. But she wouldn’t give me the kick. No, she wouldn’t do that; I had been something to her. And there’s where the kindness came in—and the merciless cruelty. Sitting upon the fauteuil-stool rigidly. God, if only she’d broken with me then, firmly and finally—if only she’d broken with me then—she—she might have saved me!
Lily.
Struggling with her tears. Oh, Nicko, Nicko!
Jeyes.
Twelve months ago she did throw me a bone. The regiment was under orders for India, and of course I sent in my papers; and out of pity, I suppose—and because I was always pestering her—she promised to become engaged to me if I’d get other work to do. Work! I wonder whether really she was grinning to herself when she made the stipulation!
Lily.