The Odd Women (Feminist Classic). George Gissing

passenger.

      ‘Do allow me to go a short way with you?’ burst from his lips. ‘I positively don’t know how I shall spend the morning.’

      Monica had signalled to the driver, and was hurrying forward. Bullivant followed, reckless of consequences. In a minute both were seated within.

      ‘You will forgive me?’ pleaded the young fellow, remarking a look of serious irritation on his companion’s face. ‘I must be with you a few minutes longer.’

      ‘I think when I have begged you not to —’

      ‘I know how bad my behaviour must seem. But, Miss Madden, may I not be on terms of friendship with you?’

      ‘Of course you may — but you are not content with that.’

      ‘Yes — indeed — I will be content —’

      ‘It’s foolish to say so. Haven’t you broken the understanding three or four times?’

      The bus stopped for a passenger, a man, who mounted to the top.

      ‘I am so sorry,’ murmured Bullivant, as the starting horses jolted them together. ‘I try not to worry you. Think of my position. You have told me that there is no one else who — whose rights I ought to respect. Feeling as I do, it isn’t in human nature to give up hope!’

      ‘Then will you let me ask you a rude question?’

      ‘Ask me any question, Miss Madden.’

      ‘How would it be possible for you to support a wife?’

      She flushed and smiled. Bullivant, dreadfully discomposed, did not move his eyes from her.

      ‘It wouldn’t be possible for some time,’ he answered in a thick voice. ‘I have nothing but my wretched salary. But every one hopes.’

      ‘What reasonable hope have you?’ Monica urged, forcing herself to be cruel, because it seemed the only way of putting an end to this situation.

      ‘Oh, there are so many opportunities in our business. I could point to half a dozen successful men who were at the counter a few years ago. I may become a walker, and get at least three pounds a week. If I were lucky enough to be taken on as a buyer, I might make — why, some make many hundreds a year — many hundreds.’

      ‘And you would ask me to wait on and on for one of these wonderful chances?’

      ‘If I could move your feelings, Miss Madden,’ he began, with a certain dolorous dignity; but there his voice broke. He saw too plainly that the girl had neither faith in him nor liking for him.

      ‘Mr. Bullivant, I think you ought to wait until you really have prospects. If you were encouraged by some person, it would be a different thing. And indeed you haven’t to look far. But where there has never been the slightest encouragement, you are really wrong to act in this way. A long engagement, where everything remains doubtful for years, is so wretched that — oh, if I were a man, I would never try to persuade a girl into that! I think it wrong and cruel.’

      The stroke was effectual. Bullivant averted his face, naturally woebegone, and sat for some minutes without speaking. The bus again drew up; four or five people were about to ascend.

      ‘I will say good-morning, Miss Madden,’ he whispered hurriedly.

      She gave her hand, glanced at him with embarrassment, and so let him depart.

      Ten minutes restored the mood in which she had set out. Once more she smiled to herself. Indeed, her head was better for the fresh air and the movement. If only the sisters would allow her to get away soon after dinner!

      It was Virginia who opened the door to her, and embraced and kissed her with wonted fondness.

      ‘You are nice and early! Poor Alice has been in bed since the day before yesterday; a dreadful cold and one of her very worst headaches. But I think she is a little better this morning.’

      Alice — a sad spectacle — was propped up on pillows.

      ‘Don’t kiss me, darling,’ she said, in a voice barely audible. ‘You mustn’t risk getting a sore throat. How well you look!’

      ‘I’m afraid she doesn’t look well,’ corrected Virginia; ‘but perhaps she has a little more colour than of late. Monica, dear, as Alice can hardly’ use her voice, I will speak for both of us, and wish you many, many happy returns of the day. And we ask you to accept this little book from us. It may be a comfort to you from time to time.’

      ‘You are good, kind dears!’ replied Monica, kissing the one on the lips and the other on her thinly-tressed head. ‘It’s no use saying you oughtn’t to have spent money on me; you will always do it. What a nice “Christian Year”! I’ll do my best to read some of it now and then.’

      With a half-guilty air, Virginia then brought from some corner of the room a very small but delicate currant cake. Monica must eat a mouthful of this; she always had such a wretched breakfast, and the journey from Walworth Road was enough to give an appetite.

      ‘But you are ruining yourselves, foolish people!’

      The others exchanged a look, and smiled with such a strange air that Monica could not but notice it.

      ‘I know!’ she cried. ‘There’s good news. You have found something, and better than usual Virgie.’

      ‘Perhaps so. Who knows? Eat your slice of cake like a good child, and then I shall have something to tell you.’

      Obviously the two were excited. Virginia moved about with the recovered step of girlhood, held herself upright, and could not steady her hands.

      ‘You would never guess whom I have seen,’ she began, when Monica was quite ready to listen. ‘We had a letter the other morning which did puzzle us so — I mean the writing before we opened it. And it was from — Miss Nunn!’

      This name did not greatly stir Monica.

      ‘You had quite lost sight of her, hadn’t you?’ she remarked.

      ‘Quite. I didn’t suppose we should ever hear of her again. But nothing more fortunate could have happened. My dear, she is wonderful!’

      At considerable length Virginia detailed all she had learnt of Miss Nunn’s career, and described her present position.

      ‘She will be the most valuable friend to us. Oh, her strength, her resolution! The way in which she discovers the right thing to do! You are to call upon her as soon as possible. This very after noon you had better go. She will relieve you from all your troubles darling. Her friend, Miss Barfoot, will teach you typewriting, and put you in the way of earning an easy and pleasant livelihood. She will, indeed!’

      ‘But how long does it take?’ asked the astonished girl.

      ‘Oh, quite a short time, I should think. We didn’t speak of details; they were postponed. You will hear everything yourself. And she suggested all sorts of ways,’ pursued Virginia, with quite unintentional exaggeration, ‘in which we could make better use of our invested money. She is full of practical expedients. The most wonderful person! She is quite like a man in energy and resources. I never imagined that one of our sex could resolve and plan and act as she does!’

      Monica inquired anxiously what the projects for improving their income might be.

      ‘Nothing is decided yet,’ was the reply, given with a confident smile. ‘Let us first of all put you in comfort and security; that is the immediate need.’

      The listener was interested, but did not show any eagerness for the change proposed. Presently she stood at the window and lost herself in thought. Alice gave signs of an inclination to doze; she had had a sleepless night, in spite of soporifics. Though no sun entered the room, it was very hot, and the presence of a third person made the air oppressive.

      ‘Don’t you think we might go out for half