The Odd Women (Feminist Classic). George GissingЧитать онлайн книгу.
very near to Messrs. Scotcher’s establishment she was intercepted by a tall, showily-dressed, rather coarse-featured girl, who seemed to have been loitering about. It was Miss Eade.
‘I want to speak to you, Miss Madden. Where did you go with Mr. Bullivant this morning?’
The voice could not have been more distinctive of a London shop-girl; its tone signified irritation.
‘With Mr. Bullivant? I went nowhere with him.’
‘But I saw you both get into the bus in Kennington Park Road.’
‘Did you?’ Monica returned coldly. ‘I can’t help it if Mr. Bullivant happened to be going the same way.’
‘Oh, very well! I thought you was to be trusted. It’s nothing to me —’
‘You behave very foolishly, Miss Eade,’ exclaimed the other, whose nerves at this moment would not allow her to use patience with the jealous girl. ‘I can only tell you that I have never thought again of Mr. Bullivant since he left the bus somewhere in Clapham Road. I’m tired of talking about such things.’
‘Now, see here, don’t be cross. Come and walk a bit and tell me —’
‘I’m too tired. And there’s nothing whatever to tell you.’
‘Oh, well, if you’re going to be narsty?’
Monica walked on, but the girl caught her up.
‘Don’t be so sharp with me, Miss Madden. I don’t say as you wanted him to go in the bus with you. But you might tell me what he had to say.’
‘Nothing at all; except that he wished to know where I was going, which was no business of his. I did what I could for you. I told him that if he asked you to go up the river with him I felt sure you wouldn’t refuse.’
‘Oh, you did!’ Miss Eade threw up her head. ‘I don’t think it was a very delicate thing to say.’
‘You are very unreasonable. I myself don’t think it was very delicate, but haven’t you worried me to say something of the kind?’
‘No, that I’m sure I haven’t! Worrited you, indeed!’
‘Then please never to speak to me on the subject again. I’m tired of it.’
‘And what did he say, when you’d said that?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Oh, you are narsty today! Really you are! If it had been the other way about, I’d never have treated you like this, that I wouldn’t.’
‘Good-night!’
They were close to the door by which Messrs. Scotcher’s resident employees entered at night. Monica had taken out her latchkey. But Miss Eade could not endure the thought of being left in torturing ignorance.
‘Do tell me!’ she whispered. ‘I’ll do anything for you I can. Don’t be unkind, Miss Madden!’
Monica turned back again.
‘If I were you, I wouldn’t be so silly. I can’t do more than assure you and promise you that I shall never listen to Mr. Bullivant.’
‘But what did he say about me, dear?’
‘Nothing.’
Miss Eade kept a mortified silence.
‘You had much better not think of him at all. I would have more pride. I wish I could make you see him as I do.’
‘And you did really speak about me? Oh, I do wish you’d find some one to go out with. Then perhaps —’
Monica stood still, hesitated, and at length said —
‘Well — I have found some one.’
‘You have?’ The girl all but danced with joy. ‘You really have?’
‘Yes — so now don’t trouble me any more.’
This time she was allowed to turn back and enter the house.
No one else had yet come in. Monica ate a mouthful of bread and cheese, which was in readiness on the long table down in the basement, and at once went to bed. But no welcome drowsiness fell upon her. At half-past eleven, when two of the other five girls who slept in the room made their appearance, she was still changing uneasily from side to side. They lit the gas (it was not turned off till midnight, after which hour the late arrivals had to use a candle of their own procuring), and began a lively conversation on the events of the day. Afraid of being obliged to talk, Monica feigned sleep.
At twelve, just as the gas went out, another pair came to repose. They had been quarrelling, and were very gloomy. After a long and acrimonious discussion in the dark as to which of them should find a candle — it ended in one of the girls who was in bed impatiently supplying a light — they began sullenly to throw off their garments.
‘Is Miss Madden awake?’ said one of them, looking in Monica’s direction.
There was no reply.
‘She’s picked up some feller today,’ continued the speaker, lowering her voice, and glancing round at her companions with a grin. ‘Or else she’s had him all along — I shouldn’t wonder.’
Heads were put forward eagerly, and inquiries whispered.
‘He’s oldish, I should say. I caught sight of them just as they was going off in a boat from Battersea Park, but I couldn’t see his face very well. He looked rather like Mr. Thomas.’
Mr. Thomas was a member of the drapery firm, a man of fifty, ugly and austere. At this description the listeners giggled and uttered exclamations.
‘Was he a swell?’ asked one.
‘Shouldn’t wonder if he was. You can trust Miss M. to keep her eyes open. She’s one of the sly and quiet ‘uns.’
‘Oh, is she?’ murmured another enviously. ‘She’s just one of those as gets made a fool of — that’s my opinion.’
The point was argued for some minutes. It led to talk about Miss Eade, who was treated with frank contempt because of her ill-disguised pursuit of a mere counter-man. These other damsels had, at present, more exalted views, for they were all younger than Miss Eade.
Just before one o’clock, when silence had reigned for a quarter of an hour, there entered with much bustle the last occupant of the bedroom. She was a young woman with a morally unenviable reputation, though some of her colleagues certainly envied her. Money came to her with remarkable readiness whenever she had need of it. As usual, she began to talk very loud, at first with innocent vulgarity; exciting a little laughter, she became anecdotic and very scandalous. It took her a long time to disrobe, and when the candle was out, she still had her richest story to relate — of point so Rabelaisian that one or two voices made themselves heard in serious protest. The gifted anecdotist replied with a long laugh, then cried, ‘Good-night, young ladies!’ and sank peacefully to slumber.
As for Monica, she saw the white dawn peep at the window, and closed her tear-stained eyes only when the life of a new week had begun noisily in Walworth Road.
Chapter 6
A Camp of the Reserve
In consequence of letters exchanged during the week, next Sunday brought the three Miss Maddens to Queen’s Road to lunch with Miss Barfoot. Alice had recovered from her cold, but was still ailing, and took rather a gloomy view of the situation she had lately reviewed with such courage. Virginia maintained her enthusiastic faith in Miss Nunn, and was prepared to reverence Miss Barfoot with hardly less fervour. Both of them found it difficult to understand their young sister, who,