第97章

During these weeks she held herself absolutely at her father's disposal, but she lived for the post, and if, by any chance, she did not get her daily letter, her heart sank to the depths. She wrote every day, sometimes twice, then tore up that second letter, remembering for what reason she had set herself to undergo this separation. During the first week, his letters had a certain equanimity; in the second week they became ardent; in the third, they were fitful--now beginning to look forward, now moody and dejected; and they were shorter. During this third week Aunt Rosamund joined them. The good lady had become a staunch supporter of Gyp's new existence, which, in her view, served Fiorsen right.

Why should the poor child's life be loveless? She had a definitely low opinion of men, and a lower of the state of the marriage-laws;in her view, any woman who struck a blow in that direction was something of a heroine. And she was oblivious of the fact that Gyp was quite guiltless of the desire to strike a blow against the marriage-laws, or anything else. Aunt Rosamund's aristocratic and rebellious blood boiled with hatred of what she called the "stuffy people" who still held that women were men's property. It had made her specially careful never to put herself in that position.

She had brought Gyp a piece of news.

"I was walking down Bond Street past that tea-and-tart shop, my dear--you know, where they have those special coffee-creams, and who should come out of it but Miss Daphne Wing and our friend Fiorsen; and pretty hangdog he looked. He came up to me, with his little lady watching him like a lynx. Really, my dear, I was rather sorry for him; he'd got that hungry look of his; she'd been doing all the eating, I'm sure. He asked me how you were. I told him, 'Very well.'

"'When you see her,' he said, 'tell her I haven't forgotten her, and never shall. But she was quite right; this is the sort of lady that I'm fit for.' And the way he looked at that girl made me feel quite uncomfortable. Then he gave me one of his little bows; and off they went, she as pleased as Punch. I really was sorry for him."Gyp said quietly:

"Ah! you needn't have been, Auntie; he'll always be able to be sorry for himself."A little shocked at her niece's cynicism, Aunt Rosamund was silent.

The poor lady had not lived with Fiorsen!

That same afternoon, Gyp was sitting in a shelter on the common, a book on her knee--thinking her one long thought: 'To-day is Thursday--Monday week! Eleven days--still!'--when three figures came slowly toward her, a man, a woman, and what should have been a dog. English love of beauty and the rights of man had forced its nose back, deprived it of half its ears, and all but three inches or so of tail. It had asthma--and waddled in disillusionment. Avoice said:

"This'll do, Maria. We can take the sun 'ere."But for that voice, with the permanent cold hoarseness caught beside innumerable graves, Gyp might not have recognized Mr. Wagge, for he had taken off his beard, leaving nothing but side-whiskers, and Mrs. Wagge had filled out wonderfully. They were some time settling down beside her.

"You sit here, Maria; you won't get the sun in your eyes.""No, Robert; I'll sit here. You sit there."

"No, YOU sit there."

"No, I will. Come, Duckie!"

But the dog, standing stockily on the pathway was gazing at Gyp, while what was left of its broad nose moved from side to side. Mr.

Wagge followed the direction of its glance.

"Oh!" he said, "oh, this is a surprise!" And fumbling at his straw hat, he passed his other hand over his sleeve and held it out to Gyp. It felt almost dry, and fatter than it had been. While she was shaking it, the dog moved forward and sat down on her feet.

Mrs. Wagge also extended her hand, clad in a shiny glove.

"This is a--a--pleasure," she murmured. "Who WOULD have thought of meeting you! Oh, don't let Duckie sit against your pretty frock!

Come, Duckie!"

But Duckie did not move, resting his back against Gyp's shin-bones.

Mr. Wagge, whose tongue had been passing over a mouth which she saw to its full advantage for the first time, said abruptly:

"You 'aven't come to live here, 'ave you?"

"Oh no! I'm only with my father for the baths.""Ah, I thought not, never havin' seen you. We've been retired here ourselves a matter of twelve months. A pretty spot.""Yes; lovely, isn't it?"

"We wanted nature. The air suits us, though a bit--er--too irony, as you might say. But it's a long-lived place. We were quite a time lookin' round."Mrs. Wagge added in her thin voice:

"Yes--we'd thought of Wimbledon, you see, but Mr. Wagge liked this better; he can get his walk, here; and it's more--select, perhaps.

We have several friends. The church is very nice."Mr. Wagge's face assumed an uncertain expression. He said bluffly:

"I was always a chapel man; but--I don't know how it is--there's something in a place like this that makes church seem more--more suitable; my wife always had a leaning that way. I never conceal my actions."Gyp murmured:

"It's a question of atmosphere, isn't it?"

Mr. Wagge shook his head.

"No; I don't hold with incense--we're not 'Igh Church. But how are YOU, ma'am? We often speak of you. You're looking well."His face had become a dusky orange, and Mrs. Wagge's the colour of a doubtful beetroot. The dog on Gyp's feet stirred, snuffled, turned round, and fell heavily against her legs again. She said quietly:

"I was hearing of Daisy only to-day. She's quite a star now, isn't she?"Mrs. Wagge sighed. Mr. Wagge looked away and answered:

"It's a sore subject. There she is, making her forty and fifty pound a week, and run after in all the papers. She's a success--no doubt about it. And she works. Saving a matter of fifteen 'undred a year, I shouldn't be surprised. Why, at my best, the years the influenza was so bad, I never cleared a thousand net. No, she's a success."Mrs. Wagge added:

"Have you seen her last photograph--the one where she's standing between two hydrangea-tubs? It was her own idea."Mr. Wagge mumbled suddenly: