“Lord keep us safe this night
Secure from all our fears,
May angels guard us while we sleep
Till morning light appears—”
As she sang her alto, and as the soft and emotional harmony of the vesper swelled luxuriously through the chapel, she was peeping over her folded hands at Lottie’s hat. She could not bear Lottie’s hats. There was something aggressive and vulgar about them. And she simply detested the look of the back of Albert’s head, as he too stooped to the vesper prayer. It looked mean and rather common. She remembered Arthur had the same look, bending to prayer. There!—why had she not seen it before! That petty, vulgar little look! How could she have thought twice of Arthur. She had made a fool of herself, as usual. Him and his little leg. She grimaced round the chapel, waiting for people to bob up their heads and take their departure.
At the gate Albert was waiting for her. He came forward lifting his hat with a smiling and familiar “Good evening!”
“Good evening,” she murmured.
“It’s ages since I’ve seen you,” he said. “And I’ve looked out for you everywhere.”
It was raining a little. She put up her umbrella.
“You’ll take a little stroll. The rain isn’t much,” he said.
“No, thank you,” she said. “I must go home.”
“Why, what’s your hurry! Walk as far as Beeby Bridge. Go on.”
“No, thank you.”