“So am I” said Mrs. Bailey heartily. There was anger in her face. There really was something, some really bad opinion about Eleanor. Mrs. Bailey thought these things more important than joyful freedom. She was one of those people who would do things; then there were other people too; then one need not trouble about what it was or warn people against Eleanor. The world would find out and protect itself, passing her on. If Mrs. Bailey felt there was something wrong, no one need feel blamed for thinking so. There was. What was it?
“I’m the last to be down on anyone in difficulties” said Mrs. Bailey.
“Oh yes.” It was coming.
“It’s the way of people I look to.” She stopped. If she were not pressed she would say no more.
“Oh, by the way, Mrs. Bailey, has her bill been settled?” The voice of Mrs. Lionel … she’s unsquashable my dear, absolutely unsquashable. You never saw anything like it in your life. But she’s done frerself in Weston. It might finish the talk.
“That’s all in order young lady. It’s not that at all.”
“Oh, I know. I’m glad though.”
“I had my own suspicions before you told me you’d be responsible. I never thought about that.”
“No, I see.”
“It’s the way of people.”
“Well you know I told you at once that you must have her here at your own risk after the first week, and that I hardly knew anything about her.” If she had paid the two weeks so easily perhaps Mr. Taunton was still looking after her needs. No. She would have mentioned him. He had dropped her entirely; after all he had said.
“I’m not blaming you, young lady.” Perhaps Mrs. Bailey had offered advice and been rebuffed in some way. There would be some mysterious description of character; like the Norwegian … “selfish in a way I couldn’t describe to you.” …
“If I’d known what it was going to be I’d not have had her in the house two days.”
… some man … who? … but they were out all day and Eleanor had been with her every evening. Besides Mrs. Bailey would sympathise with that. … She was furiously angry; “not two days.” But she had been charmed. Charmed and admiring.
“Did she flirt with someone?”
“That” said Mrs. Bailey gravely, “I can’t tell you. She may have; that’s her own affair. I wouldn’t necessary blame her. Everyone’s free to do as they like provided they behave theirselves.” Mrs. Bailey was brushing at her skirt with downcast eyes.
… This woman had opened Dr. von Heber’s letter; knew he was coming next year; knew that he “would not have permitted” any talk at all, and that all her interference was meaningless. He was coming, carrying his suitcase out of the hospital, no need for the smart educated Canadian nurses to think about him … taking ship … coming back. Perhaps she resented having been in the wrong.
“It was funny how she found a case so suddenly,” said Miriam drawing herself upright, careless, like a tree in the wind. She had already forgotten she would always feel like that, her bearing altered forever, held up by him, like a tree in the wind, everyone powerless to embarrass her. Poor Mrs. Bailey. …
“You see I feel I drove her to it, in a way.”
Mrs. Bailey listened smiling keenly.
“Yes you see” pursued Miriam cheerfully, “I told her she would be all right for a week. I blamed you for that, said you were flourishing and she could pay when her ship came home.”
“That’s what you told her eh?”
“Well and then when she admitted she had no money and I knew I couldn’t manage more than a week, I advised her to apply to the C.O.S. She said she would and seemed delighted and when I asked her about it later she cried and said she hadn’t been. I said she must do something and then suddenly this case appeared. Where I don’t know.”
“I don’t blame her for not wanting to go there.”
“Why?”
“My word. I’d as soon go straight to the parish.”
“Wilberforce believes in them. He says if you really want to help the helpless you will not flaunt your name in subscription lists but hand your money over to the C.O.S. They are the only charitable organization that does not pauperise.”
“Him? Wilberforce? He has a right to his own opinions I don’t deny. But if he’d ever been in difficulties he might change them. Insulting, that’s my opinion. My word the questions they ask. You can’t call your soul your own.”
“I didn’t know that. That friend my sister brought here was being helped by them.”
“How is Miss Henderson?”
“Perfectly happy. Being with the Greens again seems Paradise she says, after London. She’s satisfied now.”
“Mts. She’s a sweet young lady; them’s fortunate as have her.”
“Well now she’s tried something else she appreciates the beautiful home. I don’t think she wants to be free.”
“Quite so. Persons differ. But she’s her own mistress; free to leave.”
“Of course it’s nicer now. The children are at school. She’s confidential companion. They all like her so much. They invented it for her.”
“Quite right. That’s as it should be.”
“And she is absolutely in Mrs. Green’s confidence now. I don’t know what poor Mrs. Green would do without her. She went back just in time for a most fearful tragedy.”
“Tss; dear—dear” murmured Mrs. Bailey waiting with frowning calm eagerness. Miriam hesitated. It would be a long difficult story to make Mrs. Bailey see stupid commercial wealth. She would see wealthy “people,” a “gentleman” living in a large country house, and not understand Mr. Green at all; but Eve, getting the bunch of keys from the ironmonger’s and writing to Bennett to find out about Rupert Street … and the detective. She would have it in her mind like a novel and never let it go. It would be a breach of confidence. … She paused, not knowing what
