Part 8 (1/2)
”I think I'm going to leave my place,” was her first remark to-day, as they turned to walk westward. She spoke in a dogged way with which Julian was familiar enough, holding her eyes down, and, as she walked, swinging her arms impatiently.
”I hope not,” said her cousin, looking at her anxiously. ”What has happened?”
”Oh, I don't know; it's always the same; people treat you as if you was so much dirt. I haven't been accustomed to it, and I don't see why I should begin now. I can soon enough get a new shop.”
”Has Mrs. Ogle been unkind to you?”
”Oh, I don't know, and I don't much care. You're expected to slave just the same, day after day, whether you're feeling well or not.”
This indirect and querulous mode of making known her grievances was characteristic of the girl. Julian bore with it very patiently.
”Haven't you been feeling well?” he asked, with the same kindness.
”Well, no, I haven't. My head fairly splits now, and this sun isn't likely to make it any better.”
”Let us cross to the shady side.”
”'Twon't make any difference; I can't run to get out of the way of horses.”
Julian was silent for a little.
”Why didn't you write to me in the week?” she asked presently. ”I'm sure it would be a relief to hear from somebody sometimes. It's like a year from one Sunday to another.”
”Did I promise to write? I really didn't remember having done so; I'm very sorry. I might have told you about a new friend I've got.”
Harriet looked sharply into his face. Julian had made no mention of Waymark on the preceding Sunday; it had been a rainy day, and they had only spent a few minutes together in the parlour which Mrs. Ogle, the keeper of the shop, allowed them to use on these occasions.
”What sort of a friend?” the girl inquired rather sourly.
”A very pleasant fellow, rather older than myself; I made his acquaintance by chance.”
Julian avoided reference to the real circ.u.mstances. He knew well the difficulty of making Harriet understand them.
”We are going to see each other every Sunday,” he went on.
”Then I suppose you'll give up coming for me?”
”Oh no, not at all. I shall see him at night always, after I have left you.”
”Where does he live?”
”Rather far off; in Kennington.”
”What is he?”
”A teacher in a school. I hope to get good from being with him; we're going to read together, and so on. I wish you could find some pleasant companion of the same kind, Harriet; you wouldn't feel so lonely.”
”I dare say I'm better off without anybody. I shouldn't suit them. It's very few people I do suit, or else people don't suit me, one or the other. What's his name, your new friend's?”
”Waymark.”