Chapter Three.
Charmion Fane Intervenes.
During the next days the idea of making my home in London, and playing fairy godmother to the tenants in a block of flats, took an ever-deepening root in my heart. I pondered on it incessantly and worked out plans as to ways and means.
Bridget should go with me as general factotum, for my method of living must be as simple as possible, since the neighbours would be more likely to confide their troubles to the ear of one who was, apparently, in the same position of life as themselves. Smart clothing would be unnecessary also, and a hundred and one luxuries of a leisured life. I mentally drew up a list of things taboo, and regarded it with—let me be honest—lingering regret. I was quite, quite willing to deny myself, but it is folly to pretend that it didn’t cost a pang. I like good clothes and dainty meals, and motor-cars, and space, and luxury, and people to wait upon me when I’m tired, and unlimited supplies of flowers, and fruit, and hot water, to say nothing of my own little share of variety and fun. Down at the bottom of my heart, a lurking doubt of myself stirred into life, and spoke with insistent voice:—
“All very well, Evelyn, but can you keep it up? Are you brave enough, strong enough, unselfish enough to give up all that has hitherto made your life, and to be satisfied with living through others? Won’t the time come when nature will rebel, and demand a turn for yourself? And then, Evelyn, then what are you going to do? Could you ever respect yourself again if, having put your shoulder to the wheel, you drew back and lapsed into selfish indifference?”
As for Aunt Emmeline, she turned on the cold tap, and kept it on at a continuous trickle.
“Exaggerated nonsense! You always were exaggerated, Evelyn, from a child. Be kind, of course; that’s only your duty, but I call it officious and presumptuous to interfere in other people’s lives. You of all people! At your age! With your looks—”
“What have my looks to do with it?”