She put the back of her hand over her mouth, and bending her head slightly and lowering her eyelids, gazed reflectively at the counter.
"It was once when a lot of us went to Ilam," she answered quietly. "The St Luke"s lot, YOU know."
"Oh!" cried Mr Brindley, apparently startled. "The St Luke"s lot?"
"Yes."
"How came he to go with you?"
"He didn"t go with us. He was there--stopping there, I suppose."
"Why, I believe I remember hearing something about that," said Mr Brindley cunningly. "Didn"t he take you out in a boat?"
A very faint dark crimson spread over the face of Miss Annie Brett. It could not be called a blush, but it was as like a blush as was possible to her. The phenomenon, as I could see from his eyes, gave Mr Brindley another shock.
"Yes," she replied. "Sally was there as well."
Then a silence, during which the commercial traveller could be heard reading from the newspaper.
"When was that?" gently asked Mr Brindley.
"Don"t ask ME when it was, Mr Brindley," she answered nervously. "It"s ever so long ago. What did he die of?"
"Don"t know."
Miss Annie Brett opened her mouth to speak, and did not speak. There were tears in her reddened eyes. I felt very awkward, and I think that Mr Brindley also felt awkward. But I was glad. Those moist eyes caused me a thrill. There was after all some humanity in Miss Annie Brett.
Yes, she had after all floated on the bosom of the lake with Simon Fuge. The least romantic of persons, she had yet felt romance. If she had touched Simon Fuge, Simon Fuge had touched her. She had memories.
Once she had lived. I pictured her younger. I sought in her face the soft remains of youthfulness. I invented languishing poses for her in the boat. My imagination was equal to the task of seeing her as Simon Fuge saw her. I did so see her. I recalled Simon Fuge"s excited description of the long night in the boat, and I could reconst.i.tute the night from end to end. And there the identical creature stood before me, the creature who had set fire to Simon Fuge, one of the "wonderful creatures" of the Gazette, ageing, hardened, ba.n.a.l, but momentarily restored to the empire of romance by those unshed, glittering tears. As an experience it was worth having.
She could not speak, and we did not. I heard the commercial traveller reading: ""The motion was therefore carried by twenty-five votes to nineteen, and the Countess of Ch.e.l.l promised that the whole question of the employment of barmaids should be raised at the next meeting of the B.W.T.S." There! what do you think of that?"
Miss Annie Brett moved quickly towards the commercial traveller.
Til tell you what _I_ think of it," she said, with ecstatic resentment.
"I think it"s just shameful! Why should the Countess of Ch.e.l.l want to rob a lot of respectable young ladies of their living? I can tell you they"re just as respectable as the Countess of Ch.e.l.l is--yes, and perhaps more, by all accounts. I think people do well to call her "Interfering Iris". When she"s robbed them of their living, what does she expect them to do? Is she going to keep them? Then what does she expect them to do?"
The commercial traveller was inept enough to offer a jocular reply, and then he found himself involved in the mora.s.s of "the whole question".
He, and we also, were obliged to hear in immense detail Miss Annie Brett"s complete notions of the movement for the abolition of barmaids.
The subject was heavy on her mind, and she lifted it off. Simon Fuge was relinquished; he dropped like a stone into the pool of forgetfulness. And yet, strange as it seems, she was a.s.suredly not sincere in the expression of her views on the question of barmaids. She held no real views. She merely persuaded herself that she held them.
When the commercial traveller, who was devoid of sense, pointed out that it was not proposed to rob anybody of a livelihood, and that existent barmaids would be permitted to continue to grace the counters of their adoption, she grew frostily vicious. The commercial traveller decided to retire and play billiards. Mr Brindley and I in our turn departed. I was extremely disappointed by this sequel.
"Ah!" breathed Mr Brindley when we were outside, in front of the Town Hall. "She was quite right about that clock."
After that we turned silently into a long illuminated street which rose gently. The boxes of light were flashing up and down it, but otherwise it seemed to be quite deserted. Mr Brindley filled a pipe and lit it as he walked. The way in which that man kept the match alight in a fresh breeze made me envious. I could conceive myself rivalling his exploits in cigarette-making, the purchase of rare books, the interpretation of music, even (for a wager) the drinking of beer, but I knew that I should never be able to keep a match alight in a breeze. He threw the match into the mud, and in the mud it continued miraculously to burn with a large flame, as though still under his magic dominion. There are some things that baffle the reasoning faculty. "Well," I said, "she must have been a pretty woman once."
""Pretty," by G.o.d!" he replied, "she was beautiful. She was considered the finest piece in Hanbridge at one time. And let me tell you we"re supposed to have more than our share of good looks in the Five Towns."
"What--the women, you mean?"
"Yes."
"And she never married?"
"No."
"Nor--anything?"
"Oh no," he said carelessly.
"But you don"t mean to tell me she"s never--" I was just going to exclaim, but I did not, I said: "And it"s her sister who is Mrs Colclough?"
"Yes." He seemed to be either meditative or disinclined to talk.
However, my friends have sometimes hinted to me that when my curiosity is really aroused, I am capable of indiscretions.
"So one sister rattles about in an expensive motor-car, and the other serves behind a bar!" I observed.
He glanced at me.
"I expect it"s a bit difficult for you to understand," he answered; "but you must remember you"re in a democratic district. You told me once you knew Exeter. Well, this isn"t a cathedral town. It"s about a century in front of any cathedral town in the world. Why, my good sir, there"s practically no such thing as cla.s.s distinction here. Both my grandfathers were working potters. Colclough"s father was a joiner who finished up as a builder. If Colclough makes money and chooses to go to Paris and get the best motor-car he can, why in Hades shouldn"t his wife ride in it? If he is fond of music and can play like the devil, that isn"t his sister-in-law"s fault, is it? His wife was a dressmaker, at least she was a dressmaker"s a.s.sistant. If she suits him, what"s the matter?"
"But I never suggested--"
"Excuse me," he stopped me, speaking with careful and slightly exaggerated calmness, "I think you did. If the difference in the situations of the two sisters didn"t strike you as very extraordinary, what did you mean?"
"And isn"t it extraordinary?" I demanded.
"It wouldn"t be considered so in any reasonable society," he insisted.
"The fact is, my good sir, you haven"t yet quite got rid of Exeter. I do believe this place will do you good. Why, d.a.m.n it! Colclough didn"t marry both sisters. You think he might keep the other sister? Well, he might. But suppose his wife had half-a-dozen sisters, should he keep them all! I can tell you we"re just like the rest of the world, we find no difficulty whatever in spending all the money we make. I dare say Colclough would be ready enough to keep his sister-in-law. I"ve never asked him. But I"m perfectly certain that his sister-in-law wouldn"t be kept. Not much! You don"t know these women down here, my good sir.
She"s earned her living at one thing or another all her life, and I reckon she"ll keep on earning it till she drops. She is, without exception, the most exasperating female I ever came across, and that"s saying something; but I will give her THAT credit: she"s mighty independent."
"How exasperating?" I asked, surprised to hear this from him.
"_I_ don"t know. But she is. If she was my wife I should kill her one night. Don"t you know what I mean?"
"Yes, I quite agree with you," I said. "But you seemed to be awfully good friends with her."
"No use being anything else. No woman that it ever pleased Providence to construct is going to frighten me away from the draught Burton that you can get at the Tiger. Besides, she can"t help it. She was born like that."
"She TALKS quite ordinarily," I remarked.
"Oh! It isn"t what she says, particularly. It"s HER. Either you like her or you don"t like her. Now Colclough thinks she"s all right. In fact, he admires her."
"There"s one thing," I said, "she jolly nearly cried tonight."
"Purely mechanical!" said Mr Brindley with cruel curtness.
What seemed to me singular was that the relations which had existed between Miss Annie Brett and Simon Fuge appeared to have no interest whatever for Mr Brindley. He had not even referred to them.
"You were just beginning to draw her out," I ventured.