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The coffee-rooms, the bar-maids, the funny little apartments, the old furniture, and "a general air of the Elizabethan era," as Euphemia remarked. "I should almost call it Henryan," said Pomona, gazing about her in rapt wonderment. We soon set out on our expeditions of sight-seeing, but we did not keep together. Euphemia and I made our way to the old cathedral.
My art, unlike Slafe's, not permitting of endless repetition, I was glad to get back to the Pomona office, to pad what little copy I had, retire into the small tent I shared with six other sufferers from the housing shortage, and attempt some sleep. The course mapped for the saltband caused almost as much controversy, anguish and denunciation as the proposal itself.
"Another thing," I remarked, "I don't believe Jonas and Pomona like your keeping their baby so much to yourself." "Nonsense!" said Euphemia, "a girl in Pomona's position couldn't help being glad to have a lady take an interest in her baby, and help bring it up. And as for Jonas, he would be a cruel man if he wasn't pleased and grateful to have his wife relieved of so much trouble.
I had myself gathered many incoherent hints relating to him, and, bit by bit, I heard fragments of fact as to his first appearance in Pomona; but on this Sunday evening, as I sat with Lothian and Mansie, I added to these hints some certain knowledge which enabled me afterwards to better understand this man.
An' if she had R.G. on one heel, an' J.P. on the other, that bridegroom could go home alone." We confidently assured Pomona that with such means of identification, and the united action of ourselves and the police, the child would surely be found, and we accompanied her to her lodgings, which were now in a house not far from our own.
Jonas has money, and they will pay a great part of their own expenses, and will not cost us much, and you needn't be afraid that Pomona will make us ashamed of ourselves, if we happen to be talking to the Dean of Westminster or the Archbishop of Canterbury, by pushing herself into the conversation."
Fancy having to live at Toodlam all one's life with George Whitstable! Lady Pomona had agreed to this also, though she thought that Toodlam Hall was a very nice home for her elder daughter. 'And, mamma, I should drive you and papa mad if I were to stay at home always.
And then he took his load from me and dashed down the gang-plank. I went below to look for Pomona. The lantern still hung on the nail, and I took it down and went into the kitchen. There was Pomona, dressed, and with her hat on, quietly packing some things in a basket. "Come, hurry out of this," I cried. "Don't you know that this house this boat, I mean, is a wreck?"
Pomona continued to read a great deal, but her husband's influence had diverted her mind toward works of history and travel, and these she devoured with eager interest. But she had not given up her old fancy for romance. Nearly everything she read was mingled in her mind with Middle Age legends and tales of strange adventure.
Had she been alone in the world she thought that she could have looked forward to her destiny with complacency; but she was afraid of her father and mother. Lady Pomona was distressingly old-fashioned, and had so often spoken with horror even of the approach of a Jew, and had been so loud in denouncing the iniquity of Christians who allowed such people into their houses!
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