Part 22 (2/2)
”Oh,” said Alex uncertainly. She was invaded by unreasoning disappointment. ”But how could we do it?”
”Oh, well, notes, you know--just keep notes of anything that struck us particularly, and then put it in together later. We should have to do a good deal of it by correspondence, of course.... I say, are you a conventional person?”
”Not in the least,” said Alex hastily.
”I'm glad of that. I'm afraid I'm rather desperately unconventional myself. Of course, in a way it might be rather unconventional, you and me corresponding--but would that matter?”
”Not to me,” said Alex resolutely.
”That's splendid. We could do a lot that way, and then I hope, of course, that you'll let me come and see you in London.”
”Of course,” Alex cried eagerly. ”I don't know the exact date when we shall be back, but I could let you know. Have you got the address?”
”Clevedon Square--”
She hastily supplied the number of the house.
”Oh, that's all right. I'm sure to forget it,” said Noel easily; ”but I shall find you in the books, I suppose.”
”Yes,” said Alex, feeling suddenly damped.
She herself would have been in no danger of forgetting the number of a house wherein dwelt any one whom she wished to see, but with disastrous and quite unconscious humility, she told herself that it was, of course, not to be expected that any one else should go to lengths equal to her own. In her one-sided experience, Alex had always found herself to be unique.
That Noel Cardew was not in despair at the idea of her departure was evident. But he repeated several times that he wished she were not going so soon, and even asked whether she would stay on if invited to do so.
”I'm sure they'd all love you to,” he a.s.sured her. ”Then Lady Isabel could pay the other visits and call for you on her way back.”
”I'm sure I shouldn't be allowed to stay on by myself,” said Alex dolefully.
”There you are! Conventionality again. _My_ daughters,” said Noel instructively, ”if I ever have any, shall be brought up quite differently. I've made up my mind to that. I daresay you'll laugh at all these theories of mine, but I've always been keen on ideas, if you remember.”
But for once Noel did not receive the habitual ready disclaimer called for by his speech.
His easy allusion to his hypothetical daughters had reduced Alex to utter silence.
Afterwards, alone in the darkness of her own room, she wondered why such a startling sense of protest had revolted within her at his words, but her mind s.h.i.+ed away instinctively from the question, and she found herself unable to pursue it.
The next morning, in the unromantic atmosphere induced by an early breakfast, and Sir Francis' anxiety to make sure of catching the connection, politely concealed, but quite evident to the perceptions of his wife and daughter, Noel Cardew and Alex exchanged their brief and entirely public farewell.
”I'll write about the book,” was his cheerful parting a.s.surance.
”Don't forget,” said Alex.
Lady Isabel was rather humorous on the subject of _fin de siecle_ emanc.i.p.ation, amongst the house party in the midst of which she and her daughter found themselves that evening.
”What are boys and girls coming to? I hear young men gaily promisin' to write to Alex on all sorts of subjects, and making private a.s.signations with her,” she declared amusedly. ”Aren't you and that nice-looking Cardew boy writin' a book in collaboration, or something, darling?”
The slight jest was made popular amongst her seniors, and Alex was kindly rallied about her modern freedom and a.s.sumption of privileges undreamed of by the older generation. The inference obviously placed upon her friends.h.i.+p with Noel Cardew was evident, and pleased her starved vanity even more than the agreeable amount of flattery and attention which at last was being bestowed upon her.
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