"You are shaved this evening, too," she said; look on the whole a little
better than the last time--that is to say, only just a scrap better. Don't
imagine ... no; the last time you were really shabby, and you had a dirty
rag round your finger into the bargain; and in that state you absolutely
wanted me to go to some place, and take wine with you--thanks, not me!"
"So it was, after all, because of my miserable appearance that you would
not go with me?" I said.
"No," she replied and looked down. "No; God knows it wasn't. I didn't even
think about it."
"Listen," said I; "you are evidently sitting here labouring under the
delusion that I can dress and live exactly as I choose, aren't you? And
that is just what I can't do; I am very, very poor."
She looked at me. "Are you?" she queried.
"Yes, worse luck, I am."
After an interval.
"Well, gracious, so am I, too," she said, with a cheerful movement of her
head.
Every one of her words intoxicated me, fell on my heart like drops of
wine. She enchanted me with the trick she had of putting her head a little
on one side, and listening when I said anything, and I could feel her
breath brush my face.
"Do you know," I said, "that ... but, now, you mustn't get angry--when I
went to bed last night I settled this arm for you ... so ... as if you lay
on it ... and then I went to sleep."
"Did you? That was lovely!" A pause.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193