“Give me some more water,” she said.
She wiped her eyes.
“I’m sorry to make such a fool of myself.
I was so unprepared.”
“I’m awfully sorry, Norah. I want
you to know that I’m very grateful for all you’ve
done for me.”
He wondered what it was she saw in him.
“Oh, it’s always the same,” she
sighed, “if you want men to behave well to you,
you must be beastly to them; if you treat them decently
they make you suffer for it.”
She got up from the floor and said she must go.
She gave Philip a long, steady look. Then she
sighed.
“It’s so inexplicable. What does
it all mean?”
Philip took a sudden determination.
“I think I’d better tell you, I don’t
want you to think too badly of me, I want you to see
that I can’t help myself. Mildred’s
come back.”
The colour came to her face.
“Why didn’t you tell me at once?
I deserved that surely.”
“I was afraid to.”
She looked at herself in the glass and set her hat
straight.
“Will you call me a cab,” she said.
“I don’t feel I can walk.”
He went to the door and stopped a passing hansom;
but when she followed him into the street he was startled
to see how white she was. There was a heaviness
in her movements as though she had suddenly grown older.
She looked so ill that he had not the heart to let
her go alone.
“I’ll drive back with you if you don’t
mind.”
She did not answer, and he got into the cab.
They drove along in silence over the bridge, through
shabby streets in which children, with shrill cries,
played in the road. When they arrived at her door
she did not immediately get out. It seemed as
though she could not summon enough strength to her
legs to move.
“I hope you’ll forgive me, Norah,”
he said.
She turned her eyes towards him, and he saw that they
were bright again with tears, but she forced a smile
to her lips.
“Poor fellow, you’re quite worried about
me. You mustn’t bother. I don’t
blame you. I shall get over it all right.”
Lightly and quickly she stroked his face to show him
that she bore no ill-feeling, the gesture was scarcely
more than suggested; then she jumped out of the cab
and let herself into her house.
Philip paid the hansom and walked to Mildred’s
lodgings. There was a curious heaviness in his
heart. He was inclined to reproach himself.
But why? He did not know what else he could have
done. Passing a fruiterer’s, he remembered
that Mildred was fond of grapes. He was so grateful
that he could show his love for her by recollecting
every whim she had.
For the next three months Philip went every day to
see Mildred. He took his books with him and after
tea worked, while Mildred lay on the sofa reading
novels. Sometimes he would look up and watch her
for a minute. A happy smile crossed his lips.
She would feel his eyes upon her.
