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In fact V.V.'s patients usually borrow anything that's loose, including his hats, suits, and shoes ... Cally, it's like a play, for I believe there he is now ..." True enough, a firm but unequal footstep just then sounded on the Cooneys' wooden steps outside. But Hen sat still, a far-away look in her eyes.
There was nothing personal in Hen's admonition, but the truth was that Cally, gazing fixedly at the passing sights, felt anything but cheerful at this moment. The Cooneys' tidings were staggering in their way. What was the meaning of Mr. Canning's mysterious flying visit?
What his thought might be, she had no idea; but his personal implication was not to be mistaken. The man from the slums, who had mistakenly put his faith in her once before in the Cooneys' parlor, conceived that she was or might be one of these strong he spoke of; little suspecting her present unconquerable weakness.
Even less did the detail of her eccentric cousins' knowledge surprise her. If there was a fight or a fire, a bon mot launched or a heart broken, money made or a death died, it invariably happened that one of the Cooneys was "just passing."... In the middle of the table stood an object of shiny green crockery, which seemed to be a cross between a fruit-dish and a vase.
Across the table sat Looloo, the best-looking of all the good-looking Cooneys. She had lucid gray eyes, with the prettiest black lashes; and Cally found herself continually looking at them.... Strange how expressive eyes could be, how revealing, looking things unspoken that influenced one's whole life.
"The Visitor is giving you the rush of your young life, and we're all on. Take a handful of my beauties." "You mean Mr. Canning? My dear Chas, if he only were!" There was no rebuffing the Cooneys. They began their little third-degree system. "He called on you last Thursday afternoon, didn't he, Cally?" said Looloo, laughing, with a little face for her daring. "One call, my dear child!"
"And where are your violets, Cally, my dear?" he asked, directing one of his mischievous winks at Looloo. "You must have a flower-shop full at home, if what we hear is true." Carlisle, on the point of saying something slightly caustic about Chas as a swain, found the tables abruptly turned. All the Cooneys were looking at her.
"Well, then, Cally, have one more sardine, please. Nothing on earth for the complexion like these fat saline fellows that mother catches fresh every morning with her little hook and line. Mind, Loo! You're joggling The Bowl." Carlisle was hardly to be overwhelmed by the Cooneys' teasing, nor perhaps was she seriously displeased by it.
"Mamma," said Cally, starting up, very white, "if you do any such thing as that I'll go away somewhere. I will go and earn my own living.... I'll go and live with the Cooneys!" The two women gazed at each other. Over the mother's face there spread a slow flush; the round, purple birthmark darkened. Cally spoke again, with deadly earnestness.
Vivian, her attitude toward him now, after the Cooneys', was simply one of cool polished politeness. She had told him what she thought of him about the Works, and he had humbly apologized for the wrong he had done her at the Beach: that disposed of him forever, and altogether to her advantage.
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