Part 12 (1/2)
observed Katharine, ”there is still one joy left to us. We can quarrel.”
He became conventional again as he rang the bell for her at number ten, Queen's Crescent, Marylebone. He raised his hat, and gently pressed her hand, and supposed he should see her again soon. And Katharine, who was occupied in hoping that he did not notice the squalor of the area, and would not come inside the dull, distempered hall, only said that she supposed so too; and then blamed herself hotly, as he drove away, for not responding more warmly.
”He will think I don't want to see him again,” she thought wearily, as she dragged herself up the uncarpeted stairs, and went into her dark and dingy cubicle. It had never seemed so dark or so dingy before; and she added miserably to herself, ”I had better not see him again, perhaps. It makes it all so much worse afterwards.”
She would have been surprised had she known what Paul really was thinking about her.
”She is more of a study than ever,” he said to the cab horse. ”Still so much of the innocent pose about her, with just that indication of added knowledge that is so fascinating to a man. She'll do, now she has got away from her depressing relations; and the touch of weirdness in her expression is an improvement. Wonder if Heaton would call her a schoolgirl now? It was quite finished, the careless way she said good-bye, as though it were of no consequence to her at all. Yes; she is a study.”
About a week later, when Katharine came down to breakfast, Phyllis Hyam threw her a letter, in her unceremonious fas.h.i.+on.
”Look here!” she said. ”I've kept you a chair next to mine, and I've managed to procure you a clean plate, too; so don't go away to the other table, as you did yesterday. Polly's gone; and I won't talk unless you want to. Come on!”
Katharine sat down absently on the hard wooden chair, and began to read her letter. She never wanted to talk at breakfast time, a fact which Phyllis good-naturedly recognised without respecting. To-day she was more silent than usual.
”No, I can't eat any of that stuff,” she said to the proffered bacon.
”Get me some tea, will you? I'll make myself some toast.”
Phyllis trotted off to the fire instead, and made it herself; and Katharine returned to her letter without noticing her further. Judging from the tense look on her face, it was of more than ordinary interest.
”Dear Miss Katharine,” it ran,
A school in which I have a little influence is in want of a junior mistress. I have no idea as to the kind of work you want, but if it is of this nature, and you would like to consider it further, come up and see me about it in my chambers. I shall be in at tea-time, any afternoon this week.
The best way for you to get here is to come to the Temple Station. Do not think any more about it, if you have already heard of something else.
Yours sincerely,
PAUL WILTON.
”Of course,” said Katharine aloud, ”I shall go this very afternoon.”
Then she paused, and looked smilingly into Phyllis Hyam's hot face.
”No; I mean to-morrow.”
”What?” said Phyllis, looking perplexed. ”I thought you wanted it now, and I made it on purpose.”
”You dear thing! of course I want it now. You are an angel of goodness, and I am a cross old bear,” exclaimed Katharine, with a burst of unusual cordiality; and Phyllis was consumed with curiosity as to the writer of that letter.
It was not difficult to find Paul Wilton's chambers among the quaint old buildings of Ess.e.x Court; and Katharine, as she toiled up the ma.s.sive oak staircase, stopping on every landing to read the names over the doors, felt that she had reached a delightful oasis of learning in the middle of commercial London.
”How splendid to be a man, and to have brains enough to live in a place like this,” she thought enthusiastically; and then, with the cynicism that always dogged the steps of her enthusiasm, she added, ”It probably only wants money enough, though.”
Paul Wilton opened his own door to her. He looked really glad to see her, and Katharine flushed with pleasure when he kept hold of her hand and drew her into his room.
”This is most good of you,” he said; and on the impulse of the moment Katharine let herself be surprised into an indiscretion.
”I was so glad to have your letter; I wanted to see you again dreadfully,” she said, without reflection. She meant what she said, but she saw from his manner that she ought not to have said it. Any sentiment that was crudely expressed was always distasteful to him; and he at once dropped her hand, and pulled forward an arm-chair with a great show of courtesy.
”Is that comfortable, or do you prefer a high one? I thought you might come, one day; but I hardly expected you so soon. It is rather wet, too, isn't it?”