"And now, I suppose, I must expect no more papers from you?" he added, in a tone of vexation.
Aldyth hesitated, as she thought of Hilda's suggestion. It would have been so easy to arrange still to write the papers. But after a moment she answered "Yes."
He observed her closely for a few moments, then he said—
"Well, I shall know that you still take an interest in the lectures, and I shall hope to see you sometimes and talk things over. But I wish very much that your uncle were—different."
There was something so droll in the way he uttered the last word that Aldyth laughed. She was feeling very happy just then, despite her uncle's prohibition. Ere her laugh was over, Miss Lorraine came in, and was surprised, and perhaps not altogether pleased, to find the lecturer entertaining her niece. It was not that her liking for John Glynne had diminished, but she had an uneasy consciousness that her uncle would strongly object to Mr. Glynne's being there on such friendly terms. Yet Miss Lorraine's hospitable feelings made it impossible for her to refrain from asking the young man to remain and take supper with them. The invitation was given so cordially that John Glynne accepted it without hesitation, and Aldyth enjoyed a talk with him, which, she told herself afterwards, was as good as hearing the lecture.
How Clara Dawtrey knew that John Glynne supped with the Lorraines that night it would be difficult to say. But by some species of espionage she discovered the fact, and reported it to her Aunt Tabitha. Clara's powers of observation were on the alert where John Glynne was concerned. She had set her heart on fascinating him, and pursued her end with an unmaidenly freedom of action which excited disgust rather than admiration in the mind of that gentleman.
But vanity rendered Clara obtuse in judging the effect of her attractions. Mr. Glynne's grave politeness did not check her hopes; his quiet, reserved manner did not restrain her from asking questions, or making flattering personal remarks, which he found particularly disagreeable. Clara had not a doubt that Mr. Glynne would find her society as attractive, if not more so, as that of Aldyth Lorraine and the Blands, if only she had more opportunities of impressing him with her wit and gaiety and the charms in which she so confidently believed. She certainly lost no chance of bringing these to bear on him.
She always contrived to secure a seat close to the platform and to speak to him after each lecture, compelling him sometimes, when there were students waiting to consult him, to break away from her trivialities with scant courtesy. She managed to meet him almost every day as he passed to and fro between his lodgings and the Grammar School; she questioned his landlady concerning his habits; she frequented every place where there was the least chance of seeing him. In short, she pursued him to such an extent that John Glynne became as anxious to avoid her as she was to meet him.
It was a sore vexation to poor Clara Dawtrey to see how quickly John Glynne formed a friendship with Aldyth Lorraine and the Blands, whilst towards her his manner continued only distantly polite. Her dislike for these girls became more bitter. She had a malicious desire to annoy or injure them in revenge for the indifference with which they regarded her and the way in which, as it seemed to her, they monopolized John Glynne.
One afternoon, Clara Dawtrey was at Cartmell's, the stationer's, one of the most important shops in the High Street, and a grand centre for gossip. There was a circulating library in connection with it. Clara had just obtained a fresh novel, and was leaning on the counter in easy conversation with Mr. Cartmell, when she saw John Glynne go past on his bicycle. It was the Wednesday half-holiday, and he was off for a run in the country. She saw him too late for any chance of a greeting, and she was vexed with herself for lingering to talk with Mr. Cartmell, and thus missing John Glynne, whom she must have met had she quitted the shop a few minutes earlier.