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"Soak him one when you get a chance, Lydia," she was wont to urge facetiously, and her advice in the present case would unhesitatingly have been to answer as acrimoniously as possible that if he were more regular in the way he handled such things his wife would have to spend less time ransacking the house looking for them.
Her sister, for all her vexation over the ending of the interview, could hardly repress a smile of superior wisdom at the other's face of tragedy. "Don't go, Lyddie, don't go!" She tried to put her arms around the flighty young thing. "Oh, dear Lydia, cultivate your sense of humor! That's all that's the matter with you. There's nothing else!
Lydia felt herself so wholly in sympathy with Paul that she was moved to touch upon something that had never been mentioned between them.
"You always ask me that," she replied. "Lydia never writes except when she has something particular to say, and then only a few lines." "Precisely. But she might have had something particular to say since we last met." "She hasn't had," said Alice, provoked by an almost arch smile from him.
Why should Lydia have deceived him? he asked himself. What possible motive could she have for seeking to blight his wife's fair name? Honoria told her story from first to last; she told the history of her night of anguish. She spoke with her eyes fixed on her husband's face, in which she could read the indications of his every feeling.
"It wasn't a matter between you and me," replied the girl, slowly. "It was between you and your conscience and if your conscience approves, what's the use of asking me to forgive you?" "Because, I can't stand not having your approval," said Levine. They strolled on in silence, while Lydia considered her reply.
You will not court a woman a hundred-fold richer than yourself; and I will not entertain a prize-fighter. My wealth frightens every man who is not a knave; and your profession frightens every woman who is not a fury." "Then you Just tell me this," said Cashel, eagerly. "Suppose I were a rich swell, and were not a " "No," said Lydia, peremptorily interrupting him.
"And hard I must save," said Lydia; "I have but beggary to face when I'm turned out." "Some of your money will be secured," replied the lawyer. "I can promise you at least three hundred." "What is three hundred to live on?" "You can save again. You are still a young woman." "I am forty-five," replied Lydia Purcell. "At forty-five you don't feel as you do at twenty-five.
And we have not got the necessary firmness, energy, and independence to emancipate ourselves from this degrading traffic in flesh and blood. We bow our heads and obey, and, in the place of love and happiness, we fill our hearts with pride and ostentation, and yet we are starving and pining away in the midst of our riches." "Yes," sighed Lydia, "and we dare not even complain!
This time she stayed in a sheltering corner of the station, and not many minutes before the train a dark figure passed her, Esther, veiled, carrying her hand-bag, and walking fast. Lydia could have touched her arm, but Esther, in her desire of secrecy, was trying to see no one. She, too, stopped, in a deeper shadow at the end of the building.
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