People of Position

by Stanley Portal Hyatt

"Well?" he said at last.

She turned her head away. "Your sister came soon after you left," she said, in a curious, dull voice.

Jimmy started. "Ida? Ida has been here already?" He passed his hand over his forehead in a dazed sort of way, then tried to pull himself together, as though to meet a blow. "Is it true, Lalage?" he asked.

She answered him with a nod.

On the second time that day, Jimmy steadied himself by the mantelpiece, only now his head went down on to his arms, and Lalage heard him give a sob.

In an instant she was on her feet, trying to turn his face towards hers. "Oh, I did it all for you, Jimmy, I did it all for you. Do you believe that, oh, you must believe that. You were ill and half-starving, and I had to get you nourishment and clothes. It was the quickest way, the only way I could think of; and it seemed so lovely to get you good food, and make you stronger. It was awful, but it would have been more awful to see you dying. Jimmy, believe me, you must believe me, every penny went for you. I didn't want it for myself, only for you; and I thought when the worry and the knocking at the door by the tradesmen were over, you would soon get on, and then I would have stopped, oh, so gladly. Jimmy, dear, Jimmy, sweetheart, say you understand, even if you don't forgive."

The man looked up, and, for the first time, Lalage saw how he had changed. He was livid and ghastly, and, when he tried to speak, he caught his breath and coughed heavily. Lalage waited with pitiful anxiety for his answer.

"I understand," he said, "but you ought not to have done it, after your promising to marry me."

She turned away hopelessly, and sank into the chair again, knowing she had lost him. "I did it for the best," she wailed. "I only thought of you, Jimmy, only of you."

"You were wrong," he answered dully. "We were both wrong. It has all been a mistake from the first. There is nothing but misery in this sort of life, there can only be misery." He was talking in a detached kind of way, as though the pain of the blow had been succeeded by a mental numbness.