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"Of course," he said, "they don't love each other!" but in this mood of self-confession which held him, he admitted that he would have felt no contrition even if Jimphy had been devoted to Cecily. "He's a born cuckold!" he went on. "I might be afraid to take his wife from him, but I wouldn't be ashamed to do it. No one would...."
And his presence was requested. He put these two things together. They must mean that the secret was to be told that evening at Blent, and that he was to be vouched as evidence, if by chance Cecily asked for it. On the very day of the wedding the truth was to be revealed.
Impatient of his quiet rooms, he went out into the crowded streets. At first he found himself envying everybody he passed the cabman on his box, the rough young fellows escaped from the factory, the man who sold matches and had no cares beyond food and a bed. But presently he forgot them all and walked among shadows. He was at Blent in spirit, sometimes with Addie Tristram, sometimes with Cecily.
Harry considered this remark for a moment with an impartial air. "Well, perhaps I should," he admitted at last, "but you needn't tell that to Cecily. Content yourself with discussing it with Mina or Mr Neeld." "I'm tired of both of them," she cried. "They do nothing but talk about you." That night as he sat in the garden at Blent with his wife, Harry returned the compliment by talking of the Imp.
They are woolly, tasteless things. But they are to be looked at in their glowing scarlet. They are the jewels with which the forest of cone-bearers loves to deck its brown breast. Cecily gathered some and pinned them on hers, but they did not become her. I thought how witching the Story Girl's brown curls would have looked twined with those brilliant clusters.
"Is it about Miss Reade?" asked Cecily. "Never mind." "I'll bet she's going to be married," I exclaimed, remembering the ring. "Is she?" cried Felicity and Cecily together. The Story Girl threw an annoyed glance at me. She did not like to have her dramatic announcements forestalled. "I don't say that it is about Miss Reade or that it isn't. You must just wait till the evening."
The car turned into Fleet Street and quickly drove up to the Savoy. "Thank God!" said Jimphy. "I shall get some fun out of my birthday now!" "Jimphy loves his food," Lady Cecily exclaimed. "Don't you, Jimphy? Don't you love your little tum-tum?..." They entered the hotel and found the table which had been reserved for them.
Informed by the baron that Louise had been surprised by a narcotic, the Creole only drank very pure water, only ate meats impossible to adulterate; she chose the chamber which she occupied, and assured herself that the walls concealed no secret doors. Besides, Jacques Ferrand soon comprehended that Cecily was a woman not to be surprised with impunity.
It was not the moment for common-sense. Mina scorned the thing and flung it from her. She would have none of it she who stood between beautiful Addie there on the wall and laughing Cecily here in the window, feeling by a strange and welcome illusion that though there were two visible shapes, there was but one heart, one spirit in the two.
To Felix, just then, life was flat, stale and unprofitable because it was his turn to go home with Sara Ray. "It makes me a little frightened to think of all that may happen in them," said Cecily. "Miss Marwood says it is what we put into a year, not what we get out of it, that counts at last." "I'm always glad to see a New Year," said the Story Girl. "I wish we could do as they do in Norway.
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