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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Where are you going, dear?" asked Sarah Gailey. "Out with Mr. Cannon." "But where?" "I don't know." In spite of herself there was a certain unnecessary defiance in Hilda's voice. "You don't know, dear?" Sarah Gailey suddenly ceased rocking, and glanced at Hilda with the mournful expression of acute worry that was so terribly familiar on her features.
From higher up, at the level of the hidden bed, came the regular plaintive respiration of Sarah Gailey. "You must take care of yourself better than this," said the doctor. "Perhaps this is a day when you ought to be resting." She answered, resigned. "No, it's not that. I believe I'm going to have a child. You must..." She stopped. "Oh," said the doctor, with discretion. "Is that it?"
Could Miss Gailey have known that Hilda knew!... But Hilda knew that Miss Gailey knew that she knew and that others guessed! Such, however, was the sublime force of convention that the universal pretence of ignorance securely triumphed. Then Florrie changed, grown, budded, practised in the technicalities of parlours, but timid because of "company" came in to set the tea.
And so, if among themselves the group at Bursley charged her with inconstancy, she must accept the accusation, to which she was inevitably exposed by the very ardour of her temperament. The putting-on of brakes took her unawares. The train was in Brighton, sliding over the outskirts of the town. Miss Gailey opened her apprehensive eyes.
I'm strong I could stand anything!" She put her shoulders back, with a challenging gesture. The pride of life was hers. And then, this disturbing vision of Sarah Gailey, alone, unhappy, unattractive, enfeebled, ageing ageing! It seemed to her inexpressibly cruel that people must grow old and weak and desolate; it seemed monstrous. A pang, momentary but excruciating, smote her.
As the departure of her mother and Miss Gailey had involved much solemn poring over time-tables, it happened that she knew the times of all the trains to London; to catch the next and last she would have to leave Turnhill at 5.55. She said that she would wait and see.
"Here we are!" said Hilda, with a gaiety that absolutely desolated herself, and in the same instant she remembered that George Cannon had preceded her in saying 'Here we are! She looked from the awful glumness of Sarah Gailey to the equally awful alacrity of George Cannon, and felt as though she had committed some crime whose nature she could not guess.
Lessways to go up with you and stay a week or two? It would be a rare change for her, and company for you." Miss Gailey looked quickly at her old friend. "Oh! Bless you!" said Mrs. Lessways. "I've only been to London once, and that was only for two days before Hilda was born. I should be no use in London, at my time of life. I'm one of your home-stayers."
This window, upon which the sun glinted dazzlingly, threw back the rays on to Hilda's bed, giving her for a few moments the illusion of direct sunlight. The hour was eleven o'clock. On the night-table lay a tea-tray in disorder, and on the turned-down sheet some crumbs of toast. A low, nervous tap at the door caused Hilda to stir in the bed. Sarah Gailey entered hurriedly.
It was still sadness, but it was beautiful in the background. Her sympathy for Sarah Gailey was as keen as ever, but it had a different quality an anguish less desolating. And the fact that a joint responsibility for Sarah Gailey's welfare bound herself and George Cannon together in spite of themselves this fact seemed to her grandiose and romantic, no longer oppressive.
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