Part 21 (2/2)
She looked eagerly into the great room with its small tables covered with white cloths. There were seats in the dining-room for one hundred and fifty people.
Edith Franks, however, looked over to a certain corner, and there, at one of the tables, quietly waiting for her, and also neatly dressed, sat Florence Aylmer.
”That is right,” said Miss Franks; ”you are coming to your senses.”
”Yes,” answered Florence, ”I am coming to my senses.”
There was a bright flush on each of her cheeks, and her eyes were brilliant: she looked almost handsome.
Edith gazed at her with admiration.
”So you are drinking in the delicious flattery: you are preparing for the fame which awaits you,” said the medical student.
”I want to say one thing, Miss Franks,” remarked Florence, bending forward.
”What is that?”
”When you came up this morning to my room I did not wish to give you the ma.n.u.script; you took it from me almost by force. You promised further that your brother's seeing it would mean nothing. You did not keep your word. Your brother has seen it, and, from what you tell me, he approves of it. From what you tell me further, he is going to show it in a certain quarter where its success will be more or less a.s.sured. Of course, you and he may be both mistaken, and after all the story which you think so highly of may be worth nothing; that remains to be proved.”
”It is worth a great deal; the world will talk about it,” said Edith Franks.
”But I don't want the world to talk of it,” said Florence. ”I didn't wish to be pushed and hurried as I have been. I did wrong to consult you, and yet I know you meant to be kind. You have not been kind: you have been the reverse; but you have _meant_ to be kind, and I thank you for your intention. Things must go their own way. I have been hard pressed and I have yielded; only please do not ask me to talk about it.
When your brother receives news I shall be glad to know; but even then I want to hear the fate of the ma.n.u.script without comment from you. That is what I ask. If you will promise that, I will accept your dinner. I am very proud, and it pains me to accept charity from anyone; but I will accept your dinner and be grateful to you: only will you promise not to talk of the ma.n.u.script any more?”
”Certainly, my dear,” answered Edith Franks. ”Have a potato, won't you?”
As Edith helped Florence to a floury potato, she exclaimed, under her breath: ”A little mad, poor girl: a most interesting psychological study.”
CHAPTER XX.
ROSE VIEW.
It was a most glorious Sunday, and Florence felt cheered as she dressed for her visit to Hampstead. She resolved to put all disagreeable things out of sight.
”I fell before,” she said to herself, ”and I am falling again. I am afraid there is nothing good in me: there is certainly _nothing_ stable in me. I yielded to temptation when I was a girl at school, and I am yielding now. I have put myself again into the power of an unscrupulous woman. But for to-day at least I will be happy; I will banish dull care.”
So she made herself look as bright and pretty as she could in a white was.h.i.+ng dress. She wore a smart sailor hat, and, putting on some white was.h.i.+ng gloves, ran downstairs. On one of the landings she met Edith Franks.
”Whither away?” asked that young lady.
”I am going to Hampstead to spend the day with friends.”
”That is very nice. I know Hampstead well. What part are you going to?”
”Close to the heath: to people of the name of Trevor.”
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