Part 7 (1/2)

Through swinging doors, she caught glimpses of foul interiors, crowded with men and women released from their toil, taking their evening pleasure. From coloured posters outside the great theatres and music halls, vulgarity and lewdness leered at her, side by side with announcements that the house was full. From every roaring corner, scintillating lights flared forth the merits of this public benefactor's whisky, of this other celebrity's beer: it seemed the only message the people cared to hear. Even among the sirens of the pavement, she noticed that the quiet and merely pretty were hardly heeded. It was everywhere the painted and the overdressed that drew the roving eyes.

She remembered a pet dog that someone had given her when she was a girl, and how one afternoon she had walked with the tears streaming down her face because, in spite of her scoldings and her pleadings, it would keep stopping to lick up filth from the roadway. A kindly pa.s.ser-by had laughed and told her not to mind.

”Why, that's a sign of breeding, that is, Missie,” the man had explained.

”It's the cla.s.sy ones that are always the worst.”

It had come to her afterwards craving with its soft brown, troubled eyes for forgiveness. But she had never been able to break it of the habit.

Must man for ever be chained by his appet.i.tes to the unclean: ever be driven back, dragged down again into the dirt by his own instincts: ever be rendered useless for all finer purposes by the baseness of his own desires?

The City of her Dreams! The mingled voices of the crowd shaped itself into a mocking laugh.

It seemed to her that it was she that they were laughing at, pointing her out to one another, jeering at her, reviling her, threatening her.

She hurried onward with bent head, trying to escape them. She felt so small, so helpless. Almost she cried out in her despair.

She must have walked mechanically. Looking up she found herself in her own street. And as she reached her doorway the tears came suddenly.

She heard a quick step behind her, and turning, she saw a man with a latch key in his hand. He pa.s.sed her and opened the door; and then, facing round, stood aside for her to enter. He was a st.u.r.dy, thick-set man with a strong, ma.s.sive face. It would have been ugly but for the deep, flas.h.i.+ng eyes. There was tenderness and humour in them.

”We are next floor neighbours,” he said. ”My name's Phillips.”

Joan thanked him. As he held the door open for her their hands accidentally touched. Joan wished him good-night and went up the stairs.

There was no light in her room: only the faint reflection of the street lamp outside.

She could still see him: the boyish smile. And his voice that had sent her tears back again as if at the word of command.

She hoped he had not seen them. What a little fool she was.

A little laugh escaped her.

CHAPTER VI

One day Joan, lunching at the club, met Madge Singleton.

”I've had such a funny letter from Flossie,” said Joan, ”begging me almost with tears in her ink to come to her on Sunday evening to meet a 'gentleman friend' of hers, as she calls him, and give her my opinion of him. What on earth is she up to?”

”It's all right,” answered Madge. ”She doesn't really want our opinion of him--or rather she doesn't want our real opinion of him. She only wants us to confirm hers. She's engaged to him.”

”Flossie engaged!” Joan seemed surprised.

”Yes,” answered Madge. ”It used to be a custom. Young men used to ask young women to marry them. And if they consented it was called 'being engaged.' Still prevails, so I am told, in certain cla.s.ses.”

”Thanks,” said Joan. ”I have heard of it.”

”I thought perhaps you hadn't from your tone,” explained Madge.

”But if she's already engaged to him, why risk criticism of him,” argued Joan, ignoring Madge's flippancy. ”It's too late.”

”Oh, she's going to break it off unless we all a.s.sure her that we find him brainy,” Madge explained with a laugh. ”It seems her father wasn't brainy and her mother was. Or else it was the other way about: I'm not quite sure. But whichever it was, it led to ructions. Myself, if he's at all possible and seems to care for her, I intend to find him brilliant.”