Part 27 (1/2)
”It would be a penny badly invested,” she said with an effort at lightness.
Digby looked down at her and swiftly away again. He knew quite well that it was for this girl that he lingered so long in his friend's house, and there was bitterest envy in his heart.
Forrester had always been lucky. The best of this world's goods had always gone his way.
He had envied him for his business capabilities and gift of making money, but he envied him more now because he had this girl for his wife.
”Aren't the woods lovely?” Faith asked, with an effort to break the silence. ”I've never seen anything quite so lovely.”
”You must get Forrester to take you abroad,” Digby said, stifling a sigh. ”Have you ever been out of England?”
”No.”
”Always lived in London?”
”Yes.”
”You haven't really begun to live yet, then,” he told her.
Their eyes met, and there was a queer, wistful look in the man's that brought the colour rus.h.i.+ng to Faith's cheeks, though she hardly knew why. She stopped dead and looked back through the leafy wood.
”Shall we wait for the others?” she asked nervously.
It was some seconds before Peg and Forrester joined them.
”Mrs. Forrester tells me that she has never been out of England,” Digby said. ”And I tell her that if that is so she has not yet begun to live!
London's all right--finest place in the world, bar none, but to appreciate it properly you ought to go away from it for months.”
”I hate London,” Faith said impulsively.
He opened his eyes in amazement.
”Really! What part have you lived in?”
Faith coloured and did not answer, but Peg broke in in her usual blunt way:
”Poplar. That's where she lived till she got married. I lived there, too. It's a frightful hole! No wonder she hates London; you would if you'd seen the rotten side of it as we have.”
Faith glanced quickly at her husband. She was so sure that he would be angry with Peg for her frankness, but to her surprise he was smiling.
”One would hardly choose the East End for a permanent residence, certainly,” Digby said, in some perplexity; ”but everyone to their taste.”
”It wasn't a question of 'taste,'” Peg said dryly; ”it was more like Hobson's choice. I had to be where the bread and cheese was, and it happened to be in Poplar--that's all.”
There was a little silence. Digby was beginning to see that he was on delicate ground.
”I think we ought to be turning back,” Forrester said.
They retraced their steps silently.