Irene, on the Sunday afternoon when he proposed to take her for the first time to see his people, started out looking like a composite photograph, for every lady in the boarding-house, from her mistress in the basement upward, had made some loan or gift, and many of the adornments had a familiar appearance. No one could blame her for opening the striped parasol, although the sun was absent; a muff carried by the other hand and wrist showed that no weather would find her unprepared. Young Easter stood at the corner of the first turning, and, in his case, a necktie showed a vivacious spirit of adventure. A row of white caps watched from area railings as they met, noted that a bowler hat was lifted, polite offer to carry the muff, consultation regarding the method of conveyance. They went off arm-in-arm, Irene tripping in the effort to keep step, and any one, starting out five minutes later, could have followed the scent, and tracked both to the destination by the combined odour of lavender-water and eau de cologne.
“Oh yes,” reported Irene, the next day, “I can always make myself at ’ome with strangers. The old lady—his mother—seemed inclined to be a bit stand-offish at the start, but I said something pleasant about the jam and after that—well, you can generally get over ’em with a little artfulness. Tact is everything in this world. Besides, civility costs nothing. At any, rate, he seemed satisfied.”
A new independence of manner appeared, but only on Friday mornings, and this was probably due to the increased conceit effected by young Easter’s compliments of the night before. Her curtness towards messengers from shops on these occasions was painful to regard: postmen offering remarks as she knelt at the steps in the early hours went on with the abashed air of those who have incurred severe reproof.
A dramatic shock came when the month’s notice had nearly expired, that must have reinforced the girl’s confidence in “The Belgravia Novelette,” and its amazing habit of altering the situation by the wave of a fairy wand. She made a slight blunder by reading the letter without any exhibition of an agonised mind, but a moment’s consideration remedied this, and, if all I heard was true, she eventually overdid the tragic intensity required.
“Oh heavens!” she murmured brokenly. “Oh my! Oh dear! Has it come to this? What is there to live for now? Oh! I think I shall go out of my mind!”
“Be quiet, child!” ordered her mistress, sharply. “You’ll make yourself ill if you go on like this.”
“Oh, go away and leave me to die. Oh, only leave me alone! Frank, Frank!”
“If you carry on in this fashion,” declared her mistress, “I shall simply take you by the shoulders and give you a thorough good shaking. That’s what I shall give to you, miss!”
“Read it, ma’am, read it, read it!”
Her mistress, having complied with this request, assured her that, so far as she could understand, the letter contained important news, but nothing to justify the hysterical outburst. Irene, recovering partial serenity of manner, explained, and the other, reading the letter again, admitted there was something in the girl’s view, and that the fact of young Easter being taken into partnership by an uncle whose health was failing, might well result in the breaking off of the engagement; the two found common ground in condemning the variability of man, and the pernicious influence of success upon some minds. The girl gave a brief rehearsal of her share in the interview that was to take place that evening, from which it appeared that young Easter would have little to do but listen, to mumble ineffective excuses, to retire finally carrying the knowledge that Irene would not now consent to marry him, though he should come to her on hands and knees.