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There was no mistaking the touch, firm and yet soft, of finger-tips. Almost simultaneously, Miss Heydinger cried out that something was smoothing her hair, and suddenly the musical box set off again with a reel. The faint oval of the tambourine rose, jangled, and Lewisham heard it pat Smithers in the face. It seemed to pass overhead.
"I might have known," she said, "I might have known. Only I would not know. Tell me some more. Tell me about her." Lewisham did. The whole thing was abominably disagreeable to him, but it had to be done, he had promised Ethel it should be done. Presently Miss Heydinger knew the main outline of his story, knew all his story except, the emotion that made it credible.
Lewisham spent the vacation with an unsympathetic but kindly uncle who was a plumber and builder. His uncle had a family of six, the eldest eleven, and Lewisham made himself agreeable and instructive. He also thought about Miss Heydinger, and she, it would seem, thought about him. He argued on social questions with his uncle, who was a prominent local Conservative.
"She's not thought about them. I suppose there's a sort of difference in education " "And she objects ?" "No," said Lewisham, lying promptly. "She doesn't object ..." "Well?" said Miss Heydinger, and her face was white. "She feels that She feels she does not say, of course, but I know she feels that it is something she ought to share. I know how she cares for me.
There waiting for him by a seat where once they had met before, he found Miss Heydinger pacing. They walked up and down side by side, speaking for a little while about indifferent topics, and then they came upon a pause ... "You have something to tell me?" said Miss Heydinger abruptly. Lewisham changed colour a little. "Oh yes," he said; "the fact is " He affected ease.
And here, on a Wednesday afternoon, were Lewisham and Miss Heydinger, the Wednesday afternoon immediately following that paper upon Socialism, that you saw announced on the notice-board in the hall.
"And then?" said Miss Heydinger. "One must bring these views prominently before people. I believe still in pamphlets. I have thought ..." Lewisham paused, it is to be hoped through modesty. "Yes?" said Miss Heydinger. "Well Luther, you know. There is room, I think, in Socialism, for a Luther." "Yes," said Miss Heydinger, imagining it. "Yes that would be a grand way."
He did not meet Miss Heydinger's renewed advances with invariable kindness. Yet something of the old relations were presently restored. He would talk well to her for a time, and then snap like a dry twig. But the loaning of books was resumed, the subtle process of his aesthetic education that Miss Heydinger had devised.
I didn't know what you would say. The thing seemed so rash, you know, and all that." He paused blankly. "I suppose you had to do it," said Miss Heydinger presently, with her eyes on his profile. Lewisham began the second and more difficult part of his explanation. "There's been a difficulty," he said, "all the way along I mean about you, that is.
"Every man needs a Lode Star," said Parkson and Lewisham swore under his breath. Parkson's lodgings were now near at hand to the left, and it occurred to him this boredom would be soonest ended if he took Parkson home, Parkson consented mechanically, still discoursing. "I have often seen you talking to Miss Heydinger," he said. "If you will pardon my saying it ..."
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