CHAPTER VII
關燈
小
中
大
closeagainsthereyes?AndFriedaMosebachwasstoppingwiththemforanotherfortnight,andFriedawassharp,abominablysharp,andquitecapableofremarking,“Youloveoneoftheyounggentlemenopposite,yes?”Theremarkwouldbeuntrue,butofthekindwhich,ifstatedoftenenough,maybecometruejustastheremark,“EnglandandGermanyareboundtofight,”renderswaralittlemorelikelyeachtimethatitismade,andisthereforemadethemorereadilybythegutterpressofeithernation.Havetheprivateemotionsalsotheirgutterpress?Margaretthoughtso,andfearedthatgoodAuntJuleyandFriedaweretypicalspecimensofit.Theymight,bycontinualchatter,leadHelenintoarepetitionofthedesiresofJune.Intoarepetition—theycouldnotdomoretheycouldnotleadherintolastinglove.Theywere—shesawitclearly—Journalismherfather,withallhisdefectsandwrong-headedness,hadbeenLiterature,andhadhelived,hewouldhavepersuadedhisdaughterrightly.
Theregistryofficewasholdingitsmorningreception.Astringofcarriagesfilledthestreet.MissSchlegelwaitedherturn,andfinallyhadtobecontentwithaninsidious“temporary,”beingrejectedbygenuinehousemaidsonthegroundofhernumerousstairs.Herfailuredepressedher,andthoughsheforgotthefailure,thedepressionremained.OnherwayhomesheagainglancedupattheWilcoxes’flat,andtooktherathermatronlystepofspeakingaboutthemattertoHelen.
“Helen,youmusttellmewhetherthisthingworriesyou.”
“Ifwhat?”saidHelen,whowaswashingherhandsforlunch.
“TheWs’coming.”
“No,ofcoursenot.”
“Really?”
“Really.”ThensheadmittedthatshewasalittleworriedonMrs.Wilcox’saccountsheimpliedthatMrs.Wilcoxmightreachbackwardintodeepfeelings,andbepainedbythingsthatnevertouchedtheothermembersofthatclan.“Ishan’tmindifPaulpointsatourhouseandsays,‘Therelivesthegirlwhotriedtocatchme.’Butshemight.”
“Ifeventhatworriesyou,wecouldarrangesomething.There’snoreasonweshouldbenearpeoplewhodispleaseusorwhomwedisplease,thankstoourmoney.Wemightevengoawayforalittle.”
“Well,Iamgoingaway.Frieda’sjustaskedmetoStettin,andIshan’tbebacktillaftertheNewYear.Willthatdo?OrmustIflythecountryaltogether?Really,Meg,whathascomeoveryoutomakesuchafuss?”
“Oh,I’mgettinganoldmaid,Isuppose.IthoughtImindednothing,butreallyI—Ishouldbeboredifyoufellinlovewiththesamemantwiceand”—sheclearedherthroat—“youdidgored,youknow,whenAuntJuleyattackedyouthismorning.Ishouldn’thavereferredtoitotherwise.”
ButHelen’slaughrangtrue,assheraisedasoapyhandtoheavenandsworethatnever,nowhereandnohow,wouldsheagainfallinlovewithanyoftheWilcoxfamily,downtoitsremotestcollaterals.
