The Odd Women (Feminist Classic). George Gissing

want to get ill, like Miss Radford. Somebody went to see her at the hospital this afternoon, and she’s awfully bad. Well, have you seen him?’

      ‘He’s gone. Good-night.’

      And Monica left the room.

      Next day she notified her intention of leaving her employment. No questions were asked; she was of no particular importance; fifty, or, for the matter of that, five score, young women equally capable could be found to fill her place.

      On Tuesday morning there came a letter from Virginia — a few lines requesting her to meet her sisters, as soon as possible after closing time that evening, in front of the shop. ‘We have something very delightful to tell you. We do hope you gave notice today, as things are getting so bright in every direction.’

      At a quarter to ten she was able to run out, and close at hand were the two eagerly awaiting her.

      ‘Mrs. Darby has found a place for Alice,’ began Virginia. ‘We heard by the afternoon post yesterday. A lady at Yatton wants a governess for two young children. Isn’t it fortunate?’

      ‘So delightfully convenient for what we were thinking of,’ put in the eldest, with her croaking voice. ‘Nothing could have been better.’

      ‘You mean about the school?’ said Monica dreamily.

      ‘Yes, the school,’ Virginia replied, with trembling earnestness. ‘Yatton is convenient both for Clevedon and Weston. Alice will be able to run over to both places and make enquiries, and ascertain where the best opening would be.’

      Miss Nunn’s suggestion, hitherto but timidly discussed, had taken hold upon their minds as soon as Alice received the practical call to her native region. Both were enthusiastic for the undertaking. It afforded them a novel subject of conversation, and inspirited them by seeming to restore their self-respect. After all, they might have a mission, a task in the world. They pictured themselves the heads of a respectable and thriving establishment, with subordinate teachers, with pleasant social relations; they felt young again, and capable of indefinite activity. Why had they not thought of this long ago? and thereupon they reverted to antistrophic laudation of Rhoda Nunn.

      ‘Is it a good place?’ their younger sister inquired.

      ‘Oh, pretty good. Only twelve pounds a year, but nice people, Mrs. Darby says. They want me at once, and it is very likely that in a few weeks I shall go with them to the seaside.’

      ‘What could have been better?’ cried Virginia. ‘Her health will be established, and in half a year, or less, we shall be able to come to a decision about the great step. Oh, and have you given notice, darling?’

      ‘Yes, I have.’

      Both clapped their hands like children. It was an odd little scene on the London pavement at ten o’clock at night; so intimately domestic amid surroundings the very antithesis of domesticity. Only a few yards away, a girl, to whom the pavement was a place of commerce, stood laughing with two men. The sound of her voice hinted to Monica the advisability of walking as they conversed, and they moved towards Walworth Road Station.

      ‘We thought at first,’ said Virginia, ‘that when Alice had gone you might like to share my room; but then the distance from Great Portland Street would be a decided objection. I might move, but we doubt whether that would be worth while. It is so comfortable with Mrs. Conisbee, and for the short remaining time — Christmas, I should think, would be a very good time for opening. If it were possible to decide upon dear old Clevedon, of course we should prefer it; but perhaps Weston will offer more scope. Alice will weigh all the arguments on the spot. Don’t you envy her, Monica? Think of being there in this summer weather!’

      ‘Why don’t you go as well?’ Monica asked.

      ‘I? And take lodgings, you mean? We never thought of that. But we still have to consider expenditure very seriously, you know. If possible, I must find employment for the rest of the year. Remember how very likely it is that Miss Nunn will have something to suggest for me. And when I think it will be of so much practical use for me to see her frequently for a few weeks. Already I have learnt so much from her and from Miss Barfoot. Their conversation is so encouraging. I feel that it is a training of the mind to be in contact with them.’

      ‘Yes, I quite share that view,’ said Alice, with tremulous earnestness. ‘Virginia can reap much profit from intercourse with them. They have the new ideas in education, and it would be so good if our school began with the advantage of quite a modern system.’

      Monica became silent. When her sisters had talked in the same strain for a quarter of an hour, she said absently —

      ‘I wrote to Miss Barfoot last night, so I suppose I shall be able to move to those lodgings next Sunday.’

      It was eleven o’clock before they parted. Having taken leave of her sisters near the station, Monica turned to walk quickly home. She had gone about half the way, when her name was spoken just behind her, in Widdowson’s voice. She stopped, and there stood the man, offering his hand.

      ‘Why are you here at this time?’ she asked in an unsteady voice.

      ‘Not by chance. I had a hope that I might see you.’

      He was gloomy, and looked at her searchingly.

      ‘I mustn’t wait to talk now, Mr. Widdowson. It’s very late.’

      ‘Very late indeed. It surprised me to see you.’

      ‘Surprised you? Why should it?’

      ‘I mean that it seemed so very unlikely — at this hour.’

      ‘Then how could you have hoped to see me?’

      Monica walked on, with an air of displeasure, and Widdowson kept beside her, incessantly eyeing her countenance.

      ‘No, I didn’t really think of seeing you, Miss Madden. I wished to be near the place where you were, that was all.’

      ‘You saw me come out I dare say.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘If you had done, you would have known that I came to meet two ladies, my sisters. I walked with them to the station, and now I am going home. You seem to think an explanation necessary —’

      ‘Do forgive me! What right have I to ask anything of the kind? But I have been very restless since Sunday. I wished so to meet you, if only for a few minutes. Only an hour or two ago I posted a letter to you.’

      Monica said nothing.

      ‘It was to ask you to meet me next Sunday, as we arranged. Shall you be able to do so?’

      ‘I’m afraid I can’t. At the end of this week I leave my place here, and on Sunday I shall be moving to another part of London.’

      ‘You are leaving? You have decided to make the change you spoke of?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And will you tell me where you are going to live?’

      ‘In lodgings near Great Portland Street. I must say good-night, Mr. Widdowson. I must, indeed.’

      ‘Please — do give me one moment!’

      ‘I can’t stay — I can’t — good-night!’

      It was impossible for him to detain her. Ungracefully he caught at his hat, made the salute, and moved away with rapid, uneven strides. In less than half an hour he was back again at this spot. He walked past the shop many times without pausing; his eyes devoured the front of the building, and noted those windows in which there was a glimmer of light. He saw girls enter by the private door, but Monica did not again show herself. Some time after midnight, when the house had long been dark and perfectly quiet, the uneasy man took a last look, and then sought a cab to convey him home.

      The letter of which he had spoken reached Monica’s hands next morning. It was a very respectful invitation to accompany the writer on