The Complete Five Towns Collections. Bennett Arnold

this pleasure?" But as soon as he had left her, his doubtfulness vanished, and he began to long for their next meeting. Little phrases of hers, unimportant gestures, came back vividly to his memory; he thought how instinct with charm they were. And yet, was he really, truly in love? Was she in love? Had there been a growth of feeling since that night at Carteret Street after the holiday at Littlehampton? He uncomfortably suspected that their hearts had come nearer to each other that night than at any time since.

      He tried to look forward to the moment when he should invite her to be his wife. But was that moment approaching? At the back of his mind lay an apprehension that it was not. She satisfied one part of his nature. She was the very spirit of grace; she was full of aplomb and a delicate tact; she had money. Moreover, her constant reliance upon him, her clinging womanishness, the caressing, humouring tone which her voice could assume, powerfully affected him. He divined darkly that he was clay in her hands; that all the future, even the future of his own heart, depended entirely upon her. If she chose, she might be his goddess.... And yet she had sharp limitations....

      Again, was she in love?

      When he woke up of a morning he wondered how long his present happiness would continue, and whither it was leading him. A scrap of conversation which he had had with Adeline recurred to him frequently. He had asked her, once when she had complained of ennui, why she did not become acquainted with some of her neighbours.

      "I don't care for my neighbours," she replied curtly.

      "But you can't live without acquaintances all your life."

      "No, not all my life," she said with significant emphasis.

      Chapter XXIII

       Table of Contents

      They had been to the National Gallery; it was Saturday afternoon. Adeline said that she would go home; but Richard, not without a little trouble, persuaded her to dine in town first; he mentioned a French restaurant in Soho.

      As they walked up Charing Cross Road, he pointed out the Crabtree, and referred to the fact that at one time he had frequented it regularly. She stopped to look at its white-and-gold frontage. In enamel letters on the windows were the words: "Table d'hôte, 6 to 9, 1/6."

      "Is it a good place?" she asked.

      "The best in London—of that kind."

      "Then let us dine there; I have often wanted to try a vegetarian restaurant."

      Richard protested that she would not like it.

      "How do you know? If you have been so often, why shouldn't I go once?" She smiled at him, and turned to cross the street; he hung back.

      "But I only went for economy."

      "Then we will only go for economy to-day."

      He dangled before her the attractions of the French restaurant in Soho, but to no purpose. He was loth to visit the Crabtree. Most probably Miss Roberts would be on duty within, and he felt an inscrutable unwillingness to be seen by her with Adeline.... At last they entered. Looking through the glass doors which lead to the large, low-ceiled dining-room on the first floor, Richard saw that it was nearly empty, and that the cash-desk, where Miss Roberts was accustomed to sit, was for the moment unoccupied. He led the way in rather hurriedly, and selected places in a far corner. Although it was scarcely beginning to be dusk, the table electric lights were turned on, and their red shades made glimmering islands of radiance about the room.

      Richard kept a furtive watch on the cash-desk; presently he saw Miss Roberts take her seat behind it, and shifted his glance to another quarter. He was preoccupied, and answered at random Adeline's amused queries as to the food. Between the soup and the entrée they were kept waiting; and Adeline, Richard being taciturn, moved her chair in order to look round the room. Her roving eyes stopped at the cash-desk, left it, and returned to it. Then a scornful smile, albeit scarcely perceptible, appeared on her face; but she said nothing. Richard saw her glance curiously at the cash-desk several times, and he knew, too, that Miss Roberts had discovered them. In vain he assured himself that Miss Roberts was not concerned in his affairs; he could not dismiss a sensation of uneasiness and discomfort. Once he fancied that the eyes of the two girls met, and that both turned away suddenly.

      When the dinner was over, and they were drinking the coffee for which the Crabtree is famous, Adeline said abruptly,—

      "I know someone here."

      "Oh!" said Richard, with fictitious nonchalance. "Who?"

      "The girl at the pay-desk,—Roberts, her name is."

      "Where have you met her?" he inquired.

      Adeline laughed inimically. He was startled, almost shocked, by the harsh mien which transformed her face.

      "You remember one night, just before uncle died," she began, bending towards him, and talking very quietly. "Someone called while you and I were in the sitting-room, to inquire how he was. That was Laura Roberts. She used to know uncle—she lives in our street. He made love to her—she didn't care for him, but he had money and she encouraged him. I don't know how far it went—I believe I stopped it. Oh! men are the strangest creatures. Fancy, she's not older than me, and uncle was over fifty!"

      "Older than you, surely!" Richard put in.

      "Well, not much. She knew I couldn't bear her, and she called that night simply to annoy me."

      "What makes you think that?"

      "Think! I know it.... But you must have heard of the affair. Didn't they talk about it at your office?"

      "I believe it was mentioned once," he said hastily.

      She leaned back in her chair, with the same hard smile. Richard felt sure that Miss Roberts had guessed they were talking about herself, and that her eyes were fixed on them, but he dared not look up for confirmation; Adeline gazed boldly around her. They were antagonistic, these two women, and Richard, do what he would, could not repress a certain sympathy with Miss Roberts. If she had encouraged Mr. Aked's advances, what of that? It was no mortal sin, and he could not appreciate the reason of Adeline's strenuous contempt for her. He saw a little gulf widening between himself and Adeline.

      "What tremendously red hair that girl has!" she said, later on.

      "Yes, but doesn't it look fine!"

      "Ye-es," Adeline agreed condescendingly.

      When he paid the bill, on the way out, Miss Roberts greeted him with an inclination of the head. He met her eye steadily, and tried not to blush. As she checked the bill with a tapping pencil, he could not help remarking her face. Amiability, candour, honesty, were clearly written on its attractive plainness. He did not believe that she had been guilty of running after Mr. Aked for the sake of his money. The tales told by Jenkins were doubtless ingeniously exaggerated; and as for Adeline, Adeline was mistaken.

      "Good evening," Miss Roberts said simply, as they went out. He raised his hat.

      "You know her, then!" Adeline exclaimed in the street.

      "Well," he answered, "I've been going there, off and on, for a year or two, and one gets acquainted with the girls." His tone was rather petulant. With a quick, winning smile, she changed the subject, and he suspected her of being artful.

      Chapter XXIV

       Table of Contents

      "I am going to America," she said.

      They sat in the sitting-room at Carteret street. Richard had not seen her since the dinner at the vegetarian restaurant, and these were almost the first words she addressed to him. Her voice was as tranquil as usual; but he discerned, or thought he discerned, in her manner a consciousness that she was guilty towards him, that at least she was not treating him justly.

      The