The situation was saved, for Darrow, by an abrupt rush of memories, and he gave way to a mirth which she as frankly echoed. “Of course,” she gasped through her laughter, “I only said it to tease Jimmy—-”
Her amusement obscurely annoyed him. “Oh, you’re all alike!” he exclaimed, moved by an unaccountable sense of disappointment.
She caught him up in a flash–she didn’t miss things! “You say that because you think I’m spiteful and envious? Yes–I was envious of Lady Ulrica…Oh, not on account of you or Jimmy Brance! Simply because she had almost all the things I’ve always wanted: clothes and fun and motors, and admiration and yachting and Paris–why, Paris alone would be enough!–And how do you suppose a girl can see that sort of thing about her day after day, and never wonder why some women, who don’t seem to have any more right to it, have it all tumbled into their laps, while others are writing dinner invitations, and straightening out accounts, and copying visiting lists, and finishing golf-stockings, and matching ribbons, and seeing that the dogs get their sulphur? One looks in one’s glass, after all!”
She launched the closing words at him on a cry that lifted them above the petulance of vanity; but his sense of her words was lost in the surprise of her face. Under the flying clouds of her excitement it was no longer a shallow flower-cup but a darkening gleaming mirror that might give back strange depths of feeling. The girl had stuff in her– he saw it; and she seemed to catch the perception in his eyes.
“That’s the kind of education I got at Mrs. Murrett’s–and I never had any other,” she said with a shrug.
“Good Lord–were you there so long?”
“Five years. I stuck it out longer than any of the others.” She spoke as though it were something to be proud of.
“Well, thank God you’re out of it now!”
Again a just perceptible shadow crossed her face. “Yes–I’m out of it now fast enough.”
“And what–if I may ask–are you doing next?”
She brooded a moment behind drooped lids; then, with a touch of hauteur: “I’m going to Paris: to study for the stage.”
“The stage?” Darrow stared at her, dismayed. All his confused contradictory impressions assumed a new aspect at this announcement; and to hide his surprise he added lightly: “Ah–then you will have Paris, after all!”
“Hardly Lady Ulrica’s Paris. It s not likely to be roses, roses all the way.”
“It’s not, indeed.” Real compassion prompted him to continue: “Have you any–any influence you can count on?”
She gave a somewhat flippant little laugh. “None but my own. I’ve never had any other to count on.”
He passed over the obvious reply. “But have you any idea how the profession is over-crowded? I know I’m trite—-”
“I’ve a very clear idea. But I couldn’t go on as I was.”
“Of course not. But since, as you say, you’d stuck it out longer than any of the others, couldn’t you at least have held on till you were sure of some kind of an opening?”
She made no reply for a moment; then she turned a listless glance to the rain-beaten window. “Oughtn’t we be starting?” she asked, with a lofty assumption of indifference that might have been Lady Ulrica’s.
Darrow, surprised by the change, but accepting her rebuff as a phase of what he guessed to be a confused and tormented mood, rose from his seat and lifted her jacket from the chair-back on which she had hung it to dry. As he held it toward her she looked up at him quickly.
“The truth is, we quarrelled,” she broke out, “and I left last night without my dinner–and without my salary.”
“Ah–” he groaned, with a sharp perception of all the sordid dangers that might attend such a break with Mrs. Murrett.
“And without a character!” she added, as she slipped her arms into the jacket. “And without a trunk, as it appears– but didn’t you say that, before going, there’d be time for another look at the station?”
There was time for another look at the station; but the look again resulted in disappointment, since her trunk was nowhere to be found in the huge heap disgorged by the newly- arrived London express. The fact caused Miss Viner a moment’s perturbation; but she promptly adjusted herself to the necessity of proceeding on her journey, and her decision confirmed Darrow’s vague resolve to go to Paris instead of retracing his way to London.