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Updated: June 25, 2025
There was a high, dusty, empty rubbish cart standing before the side gate of the Day premises; and from the porch a man in the usual khaki uniform of the Highway Department was bringing out a black oilcloth bag which Janice very well remembered. "Oh, dear me! what can have happened?" Janice cried starting to run. "That is Delia's bag the very one she brought with her."
It was strange that Anna should have come to calling it a "risk" to meet her grandfather, but it was true. Not all at once, but little by little, since her separation from Delia, the habit of dismissing him from her thoughts, as well as keeping silence about him, had grown strong within her. At first Delia's scornful face often seemed to flash before her in the midst of some gaiety or enjoyment.
As to that vanished betrothed, Agnes Clay, the heroine of Winnington's brief engagement Delia's thirst for knowledge, in a restless, suppressed way, had been insatiable. Was she jealous of that poor ghost, and of all those delicate, domestic qualities with which her biographer could not but invest her?
"How beautifully you play!" she exclaimed, as Delia dropped her bow, and shut up her music-book. A very little smile curled Delia's lips. "That shows one thing," she answered, "you don't know much about music, or you would not call my playing beautiful."
She was not unconscious and at Delia's cry she opened her eyes. The Probationer was off filling water bottles, and only the Dummy, stricken, round-shouldered, unlovely, stood beside her. "Rotten luck, old top!" she said faintly. To the Dummy it was a benediction. She could open her eyes. The miracle of speech was still hers. "Cigarette!" explained the Avenue Girl, seeing his eyes still on her.
He scented mischief; little suspecting however that a note from Gertrude Marvell lay in the pocket of the man's shabby overcoat, together with that copy of the Tocsin which Delia's sharp eyes had detected the week before in the hands of its owner.
Nora grew like a weed, and developed a good deal of musical ability. They had a steady servant now; and Mrs. Whitney was more "intellectual" than ever, and beginning to be proud of Delia's stories. She was generally paid for them; although young writers of that day were satisfied with the chance of being heard of, and read.
When I've taken you home, I shall go in to our Maumsey man, and get tied up." There was silence. The hedges and fields flew by outside, under the light of the motor, stars overhead, Delia's heart was full of wrath and humiliation. "Mr. Winnington " "Yes!" He sat up, apparently quite revived. "Mr. Winnington for Heaven's sake do give me up!" He looked at her with amused astonishment. "Give you up!
But she realised, of course, that it would be unkind to Delia to plunge her into possible trouble, or to run the risk herself of arrest or imprisonment during the early days of Delia's mourning; and of her own accord she graciously offered the assurance that neither she nor Delia would commit any illegality during the two months or so that they might be settled at Maumsey.
The only notice he took of the incident was expressed in the instinctive action of rolling his handkerchief round it. But it stirred him to lay a grasp upon Delia's arm, which she could hardly have resisted. She did not, however, resist. She felt herself lifted down from the waggon, and hurried along, the police keeping back the crowd, into the open door of the hotel.
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