Part 15 (1/2)
”_Do_ you ever cry? I can't easily imagine it.”
”Oh yes, sometimes,” she answered, sighing, and at the same time lowering her veil again. ”But you haven't read my face for me.”
”It's a face I'm sorry to have seen.”
”Why?” she asked, holding her hands clasped before her, the palms turned outwards.
”I shall think of it often after tonight, and imagine it with all its freshness gone, and marks of suffering and degradation upon it.”
”Suffering, perhaps; degradation, no. Why should I be degraded?”
”You can't help yourself. The life you have chosen brings its inevitable consequences.”
”Chosen!” she repeated, with an indignant face. ”How do you know I had any choice in the matter? You have no right to speak contemptuously, like that.”
”Perhaps not. Certainly not. I should have said--the life you are evidently leading.”
”Well, I don't know that it makes so much difference. I suppose everybody has a choice at all events between life and death, and you mean that I ought to have killed myself rather than come to this.
That's my own business, however, and--”
A man had just pa.s.sed behind them, and, catching the sound of the girl's voice, had turned suddenly to look at her. She, at the same moment, looked towards him, and stopped all at once in her speech.
”Are you walking up Regent Street?” she asked Waymark, in quite a different voice. ”Give me your arm, will you?”
Waymark complied, and they walked together in the direction she suggested.
”What is the matter with you?” he asked. ”Why are you trembling?”
”Don't look round. It's that fellow behind us; I know he is following.”
”Somebody you know?”
”Yes, and hate. Worse than that, I'm afraid of him. Will you keep with me till he's gone?”
”Of course I will. What harm can he do you though?”
”None that I know of. It's a strange stupid feeling I have. I can't bear the sight of him. Don't look round!”
”Has he been a--a friend of yours?”
”No, no; not in that way. But he follows me about. He'll drive me out of London, I know.”
They had reached Piccadilly Circus.
”Look back now,” she said, ”and see if he's following still.”
Waymark turned his head; the man was at a little distance behind. He stopped when he saw himself observed, and stood on the edge of the pavement, tapping his boot with his cane. He was a tall and rather burly fellow, well dressed, with a clean-shaven face.
”Let's make haste round the corner,” the girl said, ”and get into the restaurant. You must have some supper with me.”
”I should be very happy, had I a penny in my pocket.”