Part 31 (1/2)
Delia interrupted.
”As soon as Weston is out of danger, I'll go--of course I'll go!--about a month from now, perhaps less. You will have the flat, Gertrude, all the same, and as much money as I can sc.r.a.pe together--after the operation's paid for. I don't matter a tenth part as much as you, you know I don't; I haven't been at all a success at these meetings lately!”
There was a certain young bitterness in the tone.
”Well, of course you know what people will say.”
”That I'm s.h.i.+rking--giving in? Well, you can contradict it.”
Delia turned from the window beside which she was standing to look at Gertrude. A pale December suns.h.i.+ne shone on the girl's half-seen face, and on the lines of her black dress. A threatening sense of change, mingled with a masterful desire to break down the resistance offered, awoke in Gertrude. But she restrained the dictatorial instinct.
Instead, she sat down beside the desk again, and covered her face with her hand.
”If I couldn't contradict it--if I couldn't be sure of you--I might as well kill myself,” she said with sudden and volcanic pa.s.sion, though in a voice scarcely raised above its ordinary note.
Delia came to her impulsively, knelt down and put her arms round her.
”You know you can be sure of me!” she said, reproachfully.
Gertrude held her away from her. Her eyes examined the lovely face so close to her.
”On the contrary! You are being influenced against me.”
Delia laughed.
”By whom, please?”
”By the man who has you in his power--under our abominable laws.”
”By my guardian?--by Mark Winnington? Really! Gertrude! Considering that I had a fresh quarrel with him only last week--on your account--at Monk Lawrence--”
Gertrude released herself by a sudden movement.
”When were you at Monk Lawrence?”
”Why, that afternoon, when you were in town. I missed my train at Latchford, and took a motor home.” There was some consciousness in the girl's look and tone which did not escape her companion. She was evidently aware that her silence on the incident might appear strange to Gertrude. However, she frankly described her adventure, Daunt's surliness, and Winnington's appearance.
”He arrived in the nick of time, and made Daunt let me in. Then, while we were going round, he began to talk about your speech, and wanted to make me say I was sorry for it. And I wouldn't! And then--well, he thought very poorly of me--and we parted--coolly. We've scarcely met since. And that's all.”
”What speech?” Gertrude was sitting erect now with queerly bright eyes.
”The speech about Sir Wilfrid--at Latchford.”
”What else does he expect?”
”I don't know. But--well, I may as well say, Gertrude--to you, though I wouldn't say it to him--that I--I didn't much admire that speech either!”
Delia was now sitting on the floor with her hands round her knees, looking up. The slight stiffening of her face shewed that it had been an effort to say what she had said.
”So _you_ think that Lang ought to be approached with 'bated breath and whispering humbleness'--just as he is on the point of trampling us and our cause into the dirt?”
”No--certainly not! But why hasn't he as good a right to his opinion as we to ours--without being threatened with personal violence?”