“I cannot help taking my own way, but I love you with all my heart,” I said irrelevantly. “I must take my ring to town and have it valued, but believe me, I shall do nothing really rash.”
“I must trust you, Rose,” she said then. “You are a queer girl, but I have never known you do a really imprudent thing in your life, except on the rare occasion when you would force yourself on Cousin Geoffrey’s notice.”
“Mother dear, was that rash? I have got my beautiful ruby ring.”
My mother smiled and said no more. I left the room, knowing that she would make no opposition to my going to town on the following morning.
When the day broke, I got up early, for I felt too restless to sleep. I wore my best dress when I came down to breakfast; and when my father and brothers were ready to start for London, I accompanied them.
On the way up I noticed how ill Jack looked. He had a much nicer face than George, and I could have been fond of him had he ever shown the slightest desire to win my regard. But from his babyhood he was reserved and morose, and shared my father’s ideas with regard to women. Jack was serving his time to a solicitor in the City. At present he was earning no money, but the happy day when he could add to the family purse, and so relieve some of the dreadful burden of penury and scanty living, was not far distant. In two months’ time he was to earn sufficient to pay his weekly mite to the household exchequer.
George, who was three years older than Jack, was doing quite comfortably as a clerk at Lloyd’s, and already spoke of taking a wife, and having a home of his own. I used to wonder what sort of a girl George would marry. I must frankly say I did not envy her her husband.
This morning I found myself seated by Jack’s side in the railway carriage.
“How is your headache?” I whispered to him.
He looked round and favoured me with an almost glassy stare. He knew I spoke to him, but had not heard my question. I repeated it.