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James's Church, making for Bury Street. They wouldn't let him in, of course not they! But he would look at the windows; they had flower-boxes flower-boxes! And, suddenly, he groaned aloud he had thought of Gyp's figure busy among the flowers at home. Missing the right turning, he came in at the bottom of the street. A fiddler in the gutter was scraping away on an old violin.
Wildly she searched her mind for something clear and coherent on the hideous subject and all that would come was Gyp's "let us pause let us feel the fluttering of the heart that preceded the battle, let us hear the order to advance the wild charge " She did not hear one word that the first speaker on the negative side uttered, but the clapping that followed brought her to a pitiful consciousness.
She watched him, as he hastily piled the wood. It certainly was unusual to see the boy work like that! When asked to do a task, it was Gyp's habit to do it as slowly as possible, and to do as little as he dared. Now, without waiting to be asked, he was working as if he had not a moment to spare!
The servant, still standing there, handed him that wide-brimmed object and closed the door in his face. Once more he moved away, going towards Piccadilly. If it had not been for the expression on Gyp's face, what might he not have done? And, mixed with sickening jealousy, he felt a sort of relief, as if he had been saved from something horrible. So she had never loved him! Never at all?
Then, at memory of Gyp's face, he shivered. Ah, how wretched it all was! There must be some way out some way! Surely some way out! For when first, in the wood of life, fatality halts, turns her dim dark form among the trees, shows her pale cheek and those black eyes of hers, shows with awful swiftness her strange reality men would be fools indeed who admitted that they saw her!
Yet it was true, what he had said. He hated her. When they were going away, Mrs. Morel accompanied them as far as Nottingham. It was a long way to Keston station. "You know, mother," he said to her, "Gyp's shallow. Nothing goes deep with her." "William, I WISH you wouldn't say these things," said Mrs. Morel, very uncomfortable for the girl who walked beside her. "But it doesn't, mother.
Sunlight, piercing the shade, suddenly fell warm on Gyp's neck where her blouse ceased, and fortunately stilled the medley of emotion and laughter a little lower down. She continued to look gravely at Daphne Wing, who resumed: "Of course, Mother would have fits if I asked her such a question, and I don't know what Father would do. Only it is important, isn't it?
She's still very pretty " Gyp was trembling but undaunted. The precipice was there she had to make the leap! The undertaker paused in his contemplated flight to stare then he laughed, a loud, hoarse laugh that sent the hot blood tingling to Gyp's face. "Who ever heard the beat of it! A proposal by proxy! Ha! ha! My business is burying and not marrying! Ha! Ha! Pretty good!
"How strange it has never been opened. It's addressed to Robert. I'll give it to you." He handed it to Mrs. Westley. She took it with some of Gyp's reluctance. "It's Uncle Peter's handwriting but how fresh it looks. It's dated two days before he died, John! I suppose he put it in that Bible and it was never found." She tore the envelope open and spread out the sheets.
Not to enjoy all the beautiful, jolly things in the world?" Jerry's philosophy was beyond Gyp's practical mind. "What would you do if you had lots and lots of money, Jerry?" This was a stupendous question and one Jerry had often liked to ask of herself. Her answer was prompt. "I'd keep going to school just as long as ever I could.
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