“When you do marry, you intend to marry a man. I had not thought, Miss Norah, that you would have said that to me. Good-day;—and good-bye.”
He raised his hat, and walked away, and left me speechless, rooted to the ground, feeling, as I deserved to feel, like an utter fool;—like a wicked, cruel, thoughtless, idiotic fool,—and worse than that!
CHAPTER II.
WOMEN’S VOICES
He never looked round once; though I stood where he had left me, looking after him till he was lost among the crowd. What people thought of me I cannot say. And I didn’t care. They must have supposed that I was a sort of Lot’s wife, turned into a pillar, or something. But, at that moment, what other people thought of me did not matter in the least. What I thought of myself was a nightmare. I marched off home, feeling as if I would have liked to have pinched everyone I met. I passed Lena Portch, who was still with Mr Champneys,—a most objectionable person, who will wear shepherd’s-plaid trousers, which I abominate. Lena was to blame for everything. She stood at the gate as I was coming out of the Gardens. Directly afterwards I saw that she was crossing the road. I am sure, if a motor car, which almost made an end of me, had knocked her down, and run right over her, I would not have turned a hair. If Mr Champneys does marry her I hope he’ll beat her. I have a moral conviction that he is just that kind of creature. What can a man be like who lives in shepherd’s-plaid trousers?
When I reached home I was hot, and dishevelled, and all anyhow. I knew I should get it directly I set foot inside the door,—that is, unless I could manage to slip upstairs before anyone caught sight of me. And I got it—mamma opened the door for me herself. We had had a difficulty with our servants. It is my belief that when five women live alone in a house together they always are having difficulties with their servants. I know we were. The cook and the parlour-maid had left at a moment’s notice—or, rather, without a moment’s notice. Lilian and Audrey had complained about the state their things were in, as if they had been worn. Inquiries had been made, and there was quite a scene: I should not be surprised if the cook had worn some of Lilian’s frocks—they had just about the same figure. Anyhow, only the housemaid remained, and she was in two minds. And as, as yet, we had been able to get no one in to help her, we were at her mercy.
“Why, mamma,” I exclaimed, when I saw that it was she who had opened the door, “where is Jane?”
“It’s Jane’s afternoon out; and, of course, I should not dream of asking her to inconvenience herself to oblige me. It’s the mistresses who are the servants nowadays. What a state you’re in.”
She spoke in her most acid tones. Mamma is not very tall, and rather dumpy, and though she always dresses in black silk she never appears imposing, though she tries her best to think she does.
“Why, what’s the matter with me? I’ve been walking fast, and am rather hot,—that’s all.”
“All! Haven’t I forbidden you to walk fast? Are you not aware that nothing accentuates the unfortunate vulgarity of your appearance so much as heat? Your hat is on one side, your hair is out of curl, your necktie is under your chin. You look positively blowsy. I am ashamed to see such a figure entering my house. And where are the things?”