Part 5 (1/2)
”Suppose it only lasts a fortnight, what will you do then?”
”I don't know,” said Kitty simply.
”It must be a hard life,” Vane broke out. ”You must make very little--scarcely enough, I suppose, to carry you on from one engagement to another. After all, weren't you as well off at the restaurant? Didn't they treat you properly?”
She colored a little at the question.
”Oh, yes. At least, I had no fault to find with the man who kept it or with his wife.”
Vane made a hasty sign of comprehension. He supposed that the difficulty had arisen from the conduct of one or more of the regular customers. He felt that he would very much like to meet the man whose undesired attentions had driven his companion from her occupation.
”Did you never try to learn keeping accounts or typewriting?” he asked.
”I tried it once. I could manage the figures, but the mill shut down.”
Vane made his next suggestion casually, though he was troubled by an inward diffidence.
”I've an idea that I could find you a post. It looks as if I'm going to be a person of some little influence in the future, which”--he laughed--”is a very new thing to me.”
He saw a tinge of warmer color creep into the girl's cheeks. She had, as he had already noticed a beautifully clear skin.
”No,” she said decidedly; ”it wouldn't do.”
Vane knit his brows, though he fancied that she was right.
”Well,” he replied, ”I don't want to be officious--but how can I help?”
”You can't help at all.”
Vane saw that she meant it, and he broke out with quick impatience:
”I've spent nine years in this country, in the hardest kind of work; but all the while I fancied that money meant power, that if I ever got enough of it I could do what I liked! Now I find that I can't do the first simple thing that would please me! What a cramped, hide-bound world it is!”
Kitty smiled in a curious manner.
”Yes; it's a very cramped world to some of us; but complaining won't do any good,” She paused with a faint sigh. ”Don't spoil this evening. You and Mr. Carroll have been very kind. It's so quiet and calm here--though it was pleasant on board the yacht--and soon we'll have to go to work again.”
Vane once more was stirred by a sense of pity which almost drove him to rash and impulsive speech; but her manner restrained him.
”Then you must be fond of the sea,” he suggested.
”I love it! I was born beside it--where the big, green hills drop to the head of the water and you can hear the Atlantic rumble on the rocks all night long.”
”Ah!” exclaimed Vane; ”don't you long for another sight of it now and then?”
The girl smiled in a way that troubled him.
”I'm wearying for it always; and some day, perhaps, I'll win back for another glimpse at the old place.”
”You wouldn't go to stay?”