Part 62 (1/2)
His face clouded as he said:
”Fancy you hobn.o.bbing with those common people!”
”But I like them--the Trivetts, I mean. Whoever I knew, I should go and see them if I liked them,” she declared, her old spirit a.s.serting itself.
He looked at her in surprise, to say:
”I like to see you angry; you look awfully fine when that light comes into your eyes.”
”And I don't like you at all when you say I shouldn't know homely, kindly people like the Trivetts.”
”May I conclude, apart from that, you like me?” he asked. ”Answer me; answer me!”
”I don't dislike you,” she replied helplessly.
”That's something to go on with. But if I'd known you were going to throw yourself away on farmers, I'd have hung after you myself. Even I am better than that.”
”Thanks. I can do without your a.s.sistance,” she remarked.
”You think I didn't come near you all this time because I didn't care?”
”I don't think I thought at all about it.”
”If you didn't, I did. I was longing, I dare not say how much, to see you again.”
”Why didn't you?” she asked.
”For once in my life, I've tried to go straight.”
”What do you mean?”
”You're the sort of girl to get into a man's blood; to make him mad, reckless, head over ears--”
”Hadn't we better go on?” she asked.
”Why--why?”
She had not thought him capable of such earnestness.
”Because I wish it, and because this churchyard is enough to give one the blues.”
”I love it, now I'm talking to you.”
”Love it?” she echoed.
”First of all, you in your youth, and--and your attractiveness--are such a contrast to everything about us. It emphasises you and--and--it tells me to s.n.a.t.c.h all the happiness one can, before the very little while when we are as they.”
Here he pointed to the crowded graves.
”I'm going home,” declared Mavis.