‘I think I will have them.’
‘Madam, you will pardon me, but, if I were you, I would not. I think something much cheaper will suit you better. If you will allow me, I will look out for you and will report in a few days.’
‘Oh! very well,’ and she departed.
‘The wife of a brassfounder,’ he said to Clara; ‘made a lot of money, and now he has bought a house at Dulwich and is setting up a library. Somebody has told him that he ought to have a county history, and that Manning and Bray is the book. Manning and Bray! What he wants is a Dulwich and Denmark Hill Directory. No, no,’ and he took down one of the big volumes, blew the dust off the top edges and looked at the old book-plate inside, ‘you won’t go there if I can help it.’ He took a fancy to Clara when he found she loved literature, although what she read was out of his department altogether, and his perfectly human behaviour to her prevented that sense of exile and loneliness which is so horrible to many a poor creature who comes up to London to begin therein the struggle for existence. She read and meditated a good deal in the shop, but not to much profit, for she was continually interrupted, and the thought of her sister intruded itself perpetually.
Madge seldom or never spoke of her separation from Frank, but one night, when she was somewhat less reserved than usual, Clara ventured to ask her if she had heard from him since they parted.
‘I met him once.’
‘Madge, do you mean that he found out where we are living, and that he came to see you?’
‘No, it was just round the corner as I was going towards Holborn.’
‘Nothing could have brought him here but yourself,’ said Clara, slowly.
‘Clara, you doubt?’