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'Please to let me refuse for next Sunday. The one after, perhaps--'
He bent his head, looked desperately grave, and drove the boat on Monica was disturbed, but held to her resolution, which Widdowson silently accepted. The rest of the way they exchanged only brief sentences, about the beauty of the sky, the scenes on river or bank, and other impersonal matters. After landing, they walked in silence towards Chelsea Bridge.
'Now I must go quickly home,' said Monica.
'But how?'
'By train--from York Road to Walworth Road.'
Widdowson cast a curious glance at her. One would have imagined that he found something to disapprove in this ready knowledge of London transit.
'I will go with you to the station, then.'
Without a word spoken, they walked the short distance to York Road.
Monica took her ticket, and offered a hand for good-bye.
'I may write to you,' said Widdowson, his face set in an expression of anxiety, 'and make an appointment, if possible, for the Sunday after next?'
'I shall be glad to come--if I can.'
'It will be a very long time to me.'
With a faint smile, Monica hurried away to the platform. In the train she looked like one whose mind is occupied with grave trouble. Fatigue had suddenly overcome her; she leaned back and closed her eyes.
At a street corner very near to Messrs. Scotcher's establishment she was intercepted by a tall, showily-dressed, rather coa.r.s.e-featured girl, who seemed to have been loitering about. It was Miss Eade.
'I want to speak to you, Miss Madden. Where did you go with Mr.
Bullivant this morning?'
The voice could not have been more distinctive of a London shop-girl; its tone signified irritation.
'With Mr. Bullivant? I went nowhere with him.'
'But I _saw_ you both get into the bus in Kennington Park Road.'
'Did you?' Monica returned coldly. 'I can't help it if Mr. Bullivant happened to be going the same way.'
'Oh, very well! I thought you was to be trusted. It's nothing to me--'
'You behave very foolishly, Miss Eade,' exclaimed the other, whose nerves at this moment would not allow her to use patience with the jealous girl. 'I can only tell you that I have never thought again of Mr. Bullivant since he left the bus somewhere in Clapham Road. I'm tired of talking about such things.'
'Now, see here, don't be cross. Come and walk a bit and tell me--'
'I'm too tired. And there's nothing whatever to tell you.'
'Oh, well, if you're going to be narsty?'
Monica walked on, but the girl caught her up.
'Don't be so sharp with me, Miss Madden. I don't say as you wanted him to go in the bus with you. But you might tell me what he had to say.'
'Nothing at all; except that he wished to know where I was going, which was no business of his. I did what I could for you. I told him that if he asked you to go up the river with him I felt sure you wouldn't refuse.'
'Oh, you did!' Miss Eade threw up her head. 'I don't think it was a very delicate thing to say.'
'You are very unreasonable. I myself don't think it was very delicate, but haven't you worried me to say something of the kind?'
'No, that I'm sure I haven't! Worrited you, indeed!'
'Then please never to speak to me on the subject again. I'm tired of it.'
'And what did _he_ say, when you'd said that?'
'I can't remember.'
'Oh, you _are_ narsty to-day! Really you are! If it had been the other way about, I'd never have treated _you_ like this, that I wouldn't.'
'Good-night!'
They were close to the door by which Messrs. Scotcher's resident employees entered at night. Monica had taken out her latchkey. But Miss Eade could not endure the thought of being left in torturing ignorance.
'_Do_ tell me!' she whispered. 'I'll do anything for you I can. Don't be unkind, Miss Madden!'
Monica turned back again.
'If I were you, I wouldn't be so silly. I can't do more than a.s.sure you and promise you that I shall never listen to Mr. Bullivant.'
'But what did he say about _me_, dear?'
'Nothing.'
Miss Eade kept a mortified silence.
'You had much better not think of him at all. I would have more pride.
I wish I could make you see him as I do.'
'And you did really speak about me? Oh, I do wish you'd find some one to go out with. Then perhaps--'
Monica stood still, hesitated, and at length said,--
'Well--I _have_ found some one.'
'You have?' The girl all but danced with joy. 'You really have?'
'Yes--so now don't trouble me any more.'
This time she was allowed to turn back and enter the house.