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Updated: May 2, 2025
During Billy's very first lesson, as it chanced, Alice Greggory called and found Billy and Arkwright so absorbed in their game that they did not at first hear Eliza speak her name. The quick color that flew to Arkwright's face at sight of herself was construed at once by Alice as embarrassment on his part at being found tête-á-tête with Bertram Henshaw's wife. And she did not like it.
Surely, after what had happened, after Billy's emphatic assertion that she had never loved any one but himself, it would seem not only absurd, but disloyal, that he should doubt for an instant Billy's entire devotion to him, and yet there were times when he wished he could come home and not always find Alice Greggory, Calderwell, Arkwright, or all three of them strumming the piano in the drawing-room!
"You see, we have some money a very little," explained Mrs. Greggory, after a time; "though to get it we have had to sell all our treasures but the Lowestoft," with a quick glance into Billy's eyes.
Her studiously casual voice gave no hint that those particular pinks had been bought less than half an hour before of a Park Street florist so that Mrs. Greggory might put them in water right there. "Oh, oh, how lovely!" breathed Mrs. Greggory, her face deep in the feathery bed of sweetness. Before she could half say "Thank you," however? she found herself alone.
The two were civility itself to each other, but very plainly they were not at ease in each other's company; and Billy, much to her surprise, had to admit that Arkwright did not appear to appreciate the "circumstances" now that he had them. The pair called each other, ceremoniously, "Mr. Arkwright," and "Miss Greggory" but then, that, of course, did not "signify," Billy declared to herself.
As if answering the unspoken words, the man shook his head. "I can't, now, of course," he said. "But there is something I want to say a story I want to tell you after to-morrow, perhaps. May I?" To Billy, the tremor of his voice, the suffering in his eyes, and the "story" he was begging to tell could have but one interpretation: Alice Greggory.
"Yes; the words are by M. J. Arkwright," she said with smooth unconcern, but with a covert glance at the other's face. "Ever hear of him?" Alice Greggory gave a short little laugh. "Probably not this one. I used to know an M. J. Arkwright, long ago; but he wasn't a poet, so far as I know," she finished, with a little catch in her breath that made Billy long to take her into a warm embrace.
The little woman greeted her cordially, gave misty-eyed thanks for the beautiful plant, and also for Billy's kind thoughtfulness Friday afternoon. From that she was very skilfully led to talk more of the daughter; and soon Billy was getting just the information she wanted information concerning the character, aims, and daily life of Alice Greggory.
Then Alice Greggory said good-by her eyes full of tears that Billy pretended not to see. "There!" breathed Billy, as soon as she had Aunt Hannah to herself again. "What did I tell you? Did you see Miss Greggory's start and blush and hear her sigh just over the name of M. J. Arkwright? Just as if ! Now I want them to meet; only it must be casual, Aunt Hannah casual!
Arkwright and Alice Greggory had been almost lovers when the charges against the Judge's honor had plunged the family into despairing humiliation. Then had come the time when, according to Arkwright's own story, the two women had shut themselves indoors, refused to see their friends, and left town as soon as possible.
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