The Odd Women Part 36

'She has just got a place in the publishing department of a weekly paper.'

'But really--from the few words of her talk that fell upon my ear I should have thought her a highly educated girl.'

'So she is,' replied Miss Barfoot. 'What is your objection?'

'Why doesn't she aim at some better position?'

Miss Barfoot and Rhoda exchanged smiles.

'But nothing could be better for her. Some day she hopes to start a paper of her own, and to learn all the details of such business is just what she wants. Oh, you are still very conventional, Everard. You meant she ought to take up something graceful and pretty--something ladylike.'

'No, no. It's all right. I thoroughly approve. And when Miss Haven starts her paper, Miss Nunn will write for it.'

'I hope so,' a.s.sented his cousin.

'You make me feel that I am in touch with the great movements of our time. It's delightful to know you. But come now, isn't there any way in which I could help?'

Mary laughed.

'None whatever, I'm afraid.'

'Well,--"They also serve who only stand and wait."'

If Everard had pleased himself he would have visited the house in Queen's Road every other day. As this might not be, he spent a good deal of his time in other society, not caring to read much, or otherwise occupy his solitude. Starting with one or two acquaintances in London, people of means and position, he easily extended his social sphere. Had he cared to marry, he might, notwithstanding his poverty, have wooed with fair chance in a certain wealthy family, where two daughters, the sole children, plain but well-instructed girls, waited for the men of brains who should appreciate them. So rare in society, these men of brains, and, alas! so frequently deserted by their wisdom when it comes to choosing a wife. It being his principle to reflect on every possibility, Barfoot of course asked himself whether it would not be reasonable to approach one or other of these young women--the Miss Brissendens. He needed a larger income; he wanted to travel in a more satisfactory way than during his late absence. Agnes Brissenden struck him as a very calm and sensible girl; not at all likely to marry any one but the man who would be a suitable companion for her, and probably disposed to look on marriage as a permanent friendship, which must not be endangered by feminine follies. She had no beauty, but mental powers above the average--superior, certainly, to her sister's.

It was worth thinking about, but in the meantime he wanted to see much more of Rhoda Nunn. Rhoda he was beginning to cla.s.s with women who are attractive both physically and mentally. Strange how her face had altered to his perception since the first meeting. He smiled now when he beheld it--smiled as a man does when his senses are pleasantly affected. He was getting to know it so well, to be prepared for its constant changes, to watch for certain movements of brows or lips when he had said certain things. That forcible holding of her hand had marked a stage in progressive appreciation; since then he felt a desire to repeat the experiment.

'Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, Imprison her soft hand, and let her rave--'

The lines occurred to his memory, and he understood them better than heretofore. It would delight him to enrage Rhoda, and then to detain her by strength, to overcome her senses, to watch her long lashes droop over the eloquent eyes. But this was something very like being in love, and he by no means wished to be seriously in love with Miss Nunn.

It was another three weeks before he had an opportunity of private talk with her. Trying a Sunday afternoon, about four, he found Rhoda alone in the drawing-room; Miss Barfoot was out of town. Rhoda's greeting had a frank friendliness which she had not bestowed upon him for a long time; not, indeed, since they met on her return from Cheddar. She looked very well, readily laughed, and seemed altogether in a coming-on disposition. Barfoot noticed that the piano was open.

'Do you play?' he inquired. 'Strange that I should still have to ask the question.'

'Oh, only a hymn on Sunday,' she answered off-hand.

'A hymn?'

'Why not? I like some of the old tunes very much. They remind me of the golden age.'

'In your own life, you mean?'

She nodded.

'You have once or twice spoken of that time as if you were not quite happy in the present.'

'Of course I am not quite happy. What woman is? I mean, what woman above the level of a petted p.u.s.s.y-cat?'

Everard was leaning towards her on the head of the couch where he sat.

He gazed into her face fixedly.

'I wish it were in my power to remove some of your discontents. I would, more gladly than I can tell you.'

'You abound in good nature, Mr. Barfoot,' she replied laughing. 'But unfortunately you can't change the world.'

'Not the world at large. But might I not change your views of it--in some respects?'

'Indeed I don't see how you could. I think I had rather have my own view than any you might wish to subst.i.tute for it.'

In this humour she seemed more than ever a challenge to his manhood.

She was armed at all points. She feared nothing that he might say. No flush of apprehension; no nervous tremor; no weak self-consciousness.

Yet he saw her as a woman, and desirable.

'My views are not ign.o.ble,' he murmured.

'I hope not. But they are the views of a man.'

'Man and woman ought to see life with much the same eyes.'

'Ought they? Perhaps so. I am not sure. But they never will in our time.'

'Individuals may. The man and woman who have thrown away prejudice and superst.i.tion. You and I, for instance.'

'Oh, those words have such different meanings. In your judgment I should seem full of idle prejudice.'

She liked this conversation; he read pleasure in her face, saw in her eyes a glint of merry defiance. And his pulses throbbed the quicker for it.

'You have a prejudice against _me_, for instance.'

'Pray, did you go to the Savoy?' inquired Rhoda absently.

'I have no intention of talking about the Savoy, Miss Nunn. It is teacup time, but as yet we have the room to ourselves.'

Rhoda went and rang the bell.

'The teacups shall come at once.'

He laughed slightly, and looked at her from beneath drooping lids.

Rhoda went on with talk of trifles, until the tea was brought and she had given a cup. Having emptied it at two draughts, he resumed his former leaning position.

'Well, you were saying that you had a prejudice against me. Of course my cousin Mary is accountable for that. Mary has used me rather ill.

Before ever you saw me, I represented to your mind something very disagreeable indeed. That was too bad of my cousin.'

Rhoda, sipping her tea, had a cold, uninterested expression.

'I didn't know of this,' he proceeded, 'when we met that day in the gardens, and when I made you so angry.

'I wasn't disposed to jest about what had happened.'