Sparrows Part 104

"Do as you're told," he replied, urging her to a table.

He called the waiter and ordered an elaborate meal to be brought with all dispatch. He then took off the light overcoat covering his evening clothes before joining Mavis, who was surprised to see how much older he was looking.

"What are you staring at?" he asked.

"You. Have you had trouble?"

"Yes," he replied, looking her hard in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," she remarked, dropping hers.

As if to leaven her previous ungraciousness, Mavis ate as much of the food as she could. She noticed, however, that, beyond sipping his wine, Windebank merely made pretence of eating: but for all his remissness with regard to his own needs, he was full of tender concern for her comfort.

"You're eating nothing," she presently remarked.

"Like our other meal in Regent Street."

She nodded reminiscently.

"You hadn't forgotten?"

"It was the night I left you in the fog."

"Like the little fool you were!"

She did not make any reply. He seemed preoccupied for the remainder of the meal, an absent-mindedness which was now and again interrupted by sparks of forced gaiety.

She wondered if he had anything on his mind. She had previously resolved to wish him good-bye when they left the restaurant; but, somehow, when they went out together, she made no objection to his accompanying her in the direction of Halverton Street, the reason being that she felt wholly at home with him; he seemed so potent to protect her; he was so concerned for her happiness and well-being. She revelled in the unaccustomed security which his presence inspired.

"What are you going to buy?" he asked, as they again approached Lupus Street.

"Odds and ends."

"You must let me carry them."

She smiled a little sadly, but otherwise made no reply to Windebank's suggestion. She was bent on enjoying to the full her new-found sensation of security. When they reached Lupus Street, she went into the mean shops to order or get (in either case to pay for) the simple things she needed. These comprised bovril, tea, bacon, sugar, methylated spirit, bread, milk, a chop, a cauliflower, six bottles of stout, and three pounds of potatoes. Whatever shop she entered, Windebank insisted on accompanying her, and, in most cases, quadrupled her order; in others, bought all kinds of things which he thought she might want. In any other locality, the sight of a man in evening dress, with prosperity written all over him, accompanying a shabbily-dressed girl, as Mavis then was, in her shopping, would have excited comment; but in Pimlico, anything of this nature was not considered at all out of the way.

Windebank, loaded with parcels, accompanied Mavis to the door of her lodging. Here, she opened the door, and in three or four journeys to her room relieved Windebank of his burdens. She was loth to let him go.

Seeing that her baby was sleeping peacefully, she said to Windebank, when she joined him outside:

"I'll walk a little way with you."

"It's very good of you."

As they walked towards Victoria, neither of them seemed eager for speech. They were both oppressed by the realisation of the inevitable roads to which life's travellers are bound, despite the personal predilections of the wayfarers.

"Little Mavis! little Mavis! what is going to happen?" he presently asked.

"I'm going to be married and live happily ever after," she answered.

"I've had shocking luck. I mean with regard to you," he continued.

Mavis making no reply to this remark, he went on:

"But what I can't understand is, why you ran away that night when I got you out of Mrs Hamilton's."

"I escaped in the fog."

"But why? Why? Little Mavis! little Mavis! these things are much too sacred to play the fool with."

"I ran away out of consideration for you."

"Eh?"

"Why else should I? I didn't want you to burden your life with a n.o.body like me."

"Are you serious?"

She laughed bitterly.

"Well, I'm hanged!" he cried.

"It's no use worrying now."

"One can't altogether help it. Why hadn't you a better sense of your value? I'd have married you; I'd have lived for you, and I swear I'd have made you happy."

"I know you would," she a.s.sented.

"And now I find you like this."

"I'll be going back now."

"I'll turn with you if I may."

"You'll be late."

"I'll chance that," he laughed. "Months before I met you at Mrs Hamilton's, I heard about you from Devitt."

"What did he say?"

"It was just before you were going down to see him, from some school you were at, about taking a governess's billet. He told me of this, and I sent you a message."

"I never had it."

"Not really?"

"A fact. What was it?"