"What about Bessie's love affairs?" Mrs.
Day presently asked. "I should be so thankful to see Bessie with a home of
her own. She would be so happy, married. But--?"
She paused questioningly upon the "but," knowing it to be a very large
one.
"I don't think Reggie means anything, mama."
"No," acquiesced Mrs. Day, sadly shaking her head. "I can't think how
Bessie can be so blind. Yet, if it were otherwise, what an escape out of
Bridge Street it would be for her."
Deleah was silent.
"Or for you?"
Deleah laughed with her colour high: "I would not marry Reggie Forcus if
he were stuffed with gold, mama."
Mrs. Day turned away to wait upon the untidy little servant girl from over
the way whose family had suddenly "run out of vinegar."
Her eyes had been sharp enough to see on which of her daughters' faces it
was that Reginald Forcus's gaze dwelt; she had divined the attraction
which drew the pleasure-loving, much sought young man to sit patiently for
hours in the evening, watching the girls at their work. She looked,
drearily, the vinegar being measured and the customer gone, between the
intervening biscuit tins and pickle jars into the street. She had begun to
cherish a dream that if not Bessie it might be her pretty Deleah who,
through Reggie, should find a way out.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213