The Odd Women Part 35

'For a moment, please. You are very friendly with me nowadays, but I suppose your estimate of my character remains very much the same as years ago?'

'What is the use of such questions?'

'I ask for a distinct purpose. You can't regard me with any respect?'

'To tell you the truth, Everard, I know nothing about you. I have no wish to revive disagreeable memories, and I think it quite possible that you may be worthy of respect.'

'So far so good. Now, in justice, please answer me another question.

How have you spoken of me to Miss Nunn?'

'How can it matter?'

'It matters a good deal. Have you told her any scandal about me?'

'Yes, I have.'

Everard looked at her with surprise.

'I spoke to Miss Nunn about you,' she continued, 'before I thought of your coming here. Frankly, I used you as an ill.u.s.tration of the evils I abominate.'

'You are a courageous and plain-spoken woman, cousin Mary,' said Everard, laughing a little. 'Couldn't you have found some other example?'

There was no reply.

'So,' he proceeded, 'Miss Nunn regards me as a proved scoundrel?'

'I never told her the story. I made known the general grounds of my dissatisfaction with you, that was all.'

'Come, that's something. I'm glad you didn't amuse her with that unedifying bit of fiction.'

'Fiction?'

'Yes, fiction,' said Everard bluntly. 'I am not going into details; the thing's over and done with, and I chose my course at the time. But it's as well to let you know that my behaviour was grossly misrepresented.

In using me to point a moral you were grievously astray. I shall say no more. Ii you can believe me, do; if you can't, dismiss the matter from your mind.'

There followed a silence of some moments. Then, with a perfectly calm manner, Miss Barfoot began to speak of a new subject. Everard followed her lead. He did not stay much longer, and on leaving asked to be remembered to Miss Nunn.

A week later he again found his cousin alone. He now felt sure that Miss Nunn was keeping out of his way. Her parting from him in the gardens had been decidedly abrupt, and possibly it signified more serious offence than at the time he attributed to her. It was so difficult to be sure of anything in regard to Miss Nunn. If another woman had acted thus he would have judged it coquetry. But perhaps Rhoda was quite incapable of anything of that kind. Perhaps she took herself so very seriously that the mere suspicion of banter in his talk had moved her to grave resentment. Or again, she might be half ashamed to meet him after confessing her disagreement with Miss Barfoot; on recovery from ill-temper (unmistakable ill-temper it was), she had seen her behaviour in an embarra.s.sing light. Between these various conjectures he wavered whilst talking with Mary. But he did not so much as mention Miss Nunn's name.

Some ten days went by, and he paid a call at the hour sanctioned by society, five in the afternoon; it being Sat.u.r.day. One of his reasons for coming at this time was the hope that he might meet other callers, for he felt curious to see what sort of people visited the house. And this wish was gratified. On entering the drawing-room, whither he was led by the servant straightway, after the manner of the world, he found not only his cousin and her friend, but two strangers, ladies. A glance informed him that both of these were young and good-looking, one being a type that particularly pleased him--dark, pale, with very bright eyes.

Miss Barfoot received him as any hostess would have done. She was her cheerful self once more, and in a moment introduced him to the lady with whom she had been talking--the dark one, by name Mrs. Widdowson.

Rhoda Nunn, sitting apart with the second lady, gave him her hand, but at once resumed her conversation.

With Mrs. Widdowson he was soon chatting in his easy and graceful way, Miss Barfoot putting in a word now and then. He saw that she had not long been married; a pleasant diffidence and the maidenly glance of her bright eyes indicated this. She was dressed very prettily, and seemed aware of it.

'We went to hear the new opera at the Savoy last night,' she said to Miss Barfoot, with a smile of remembered enjoyment.

'Did you? Miss Nunn and I were there.'

Everard gazed at his cousin with humorous incredulity.

'Is it possible?' he exclaimed. 'You were at the Savoy?'

'Where is the impossibility? Why shouldn't Miss Nunn and I go to the theatre?'

'I appeal to Mrs. Widdowson. She also was astonished.'

'Yes, indeed I was, Miss Barfoot!' exclaimed the younger lady, with a merry little laugh. 'I hesitated before speaking of such a frivolous entertainment.'

Lowering her voice, and casting a smile in Rhoda's direction, Miss Barfoot replied,--

'I have to make a concession occasionally on Miss Nunn's account. It would be unkind never to allow her a little recreation.'

The two at a distance were talking earnestly, with grave countenances.

In a few moments they rose, and the visitor came towards Miss Barfoot to take her leave. Thereupon Everard crossed to Miss Nunn.

'Is there anything very good in the new Gilbert and Sullivan opera?' he asked.

'Many good things. You really haven't been yet?'

'No--I'm ashamed to say.'

'Do go this evening, if you can get a seat. Which part of the theatre do you prefer?'

His eye rested on her, but he could detect no irony.

'I'm a poor man, you know. I have to be content with the cheap places.

Which do you like best, the Savoy operas or the burlesques at the Gaiety?'

A few more such questions and answers, of laboured commonplace or strained flippancy, and Everard, after searching his companion's face, broke off with a laugh.

'There now,' he said, 'we have talked in the approved five o'clock way.

Precisely the dialogue I heard in a drawing-room yesterday. It goes on day after day, year after year, through the whole of people's lives.'

'You are on friendly terms with such people?'

'I am on friendly terms with people of every kind.' He added, in an undertone, 'I hope I may include you, Miss Nunn?'

But to this she paid no attention. She was looking at Monica and Miss Barfoot, who had just risen from their seats. They approached, and presently Barfoot found himself alone with the familiar pair.

'Another cup of tea, Everard?' asked his cousin.

'Thank you. Who was the young lady you didn't introduce me to?'

'Miss Haven--one of our pupils.'

'Does she think of going into business?'