Lily, on her side, left the theater. That day, she was accompanied by Maud, who fixed her with her glass eye, while the other was engaged in watching the flies. Of course, Trampy was prowling round the theater to see her part of the way home; for he, too, had decided to carry things with a high hand. And he set to work at a quicker pace than ever.
He had none of Jimmy’s scruples; he was not afraid of exaggerating: far from it. Lily always left him under the impression of a glimpse of paradise. This time, however, she failed to smile when Trampy vowed that she was “the sweetest little thing that one could lay eyes on, by Jove!” For a long time, but especially since that morning, she had been burning to put a question to him. Possibly she had no intention of marrying him, but she wouldn’t allow him to make a fool of her; and she interrupted him in his compliments to ask if what they said was true.
“Who says so? It’s a lie!” Trampy hastened to answer.
“I mean your marriage,” replied Lily.
“I thought as much,” said Trampy.
“Tell me the truth,” persisted Lily innocently, looking him straight in the eyes.
“If I was married, Lily, would I want to marry you?”
“Of course not,” said Lily, already shaken.
“Who’s been talking to you about that?” asked Trampy. “Your Pa, eh? And Jimmy: I’ll bet that Jimmy ...?”
“Jimmy too.”