fraternity-第13章
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ng to do withwith this girl； or what？〃 And she thought： 'I'll stop that； at any rate。'
The seamstress's face was distorted by her efforts to control her voice。
〃I tell him he's wicked to say such things； m'm； and Mr。 Hilary such a kind gentleman。 And what business is it of his； I say； that's got a wife and children of his own？ I've seen him in the street； I've watched him hanging about Mrs。 Hilary's house when I've been working there waiting for that girl； and following herhome…〃 Again her lips refused to do service； except in the swallowing of her tears。
Cecilia thought： 'I must tell Stephen at once。 That man is dangerous。' A spasm gripped her heart； usually so warm and snug； vague feelings she had already entertained presented themselves now with startling force； she seemed to see the face of sordid life staring at the family of Dallison。 Mrs。 Hughs' voice； which did not dare to break； resumed：
〃I've said to him： 'Whatever are you thinking of？ And after Mrs。 Hilary's been so kind to me！ But he's like a madman when he's in liquor； and he says he'll go to Mrs。 Hilary…〃
〃Go to my sister？ What about？ The ruffian！〃
At hearing her husband called a ruffian by another woman the shadow of resentment passed across Mrs。 Hughs' face； leaving it quivering and red。 The conversation had already made a strange difference in the manner of these two women to each other。 It was as though each now knew exactly how much sympathy and confidence could be expected of the other； as though life had suddenly sucked up the mist； and shown them standing one on either side of a deep trench。 In Mrs。 Hughs' eyes there was the look of those who have long discovered that they must not answer back for fear of losing what little ground they have to stand on； and Cecilia's eyes were cold and watchful。 'I sympathise；' they seemed to say； 'I sympathise； but you must please understand that you cannot expect sympathy if your affairs compromise the members of my family。' Her； chief thought now was to be relieved of the company of this woman； who had been betrayed into showing what lay beneath her dumb； stubborn patience。 It was not callousness； but the natural result of being fluttered。 Her heart was like a bird agitated in its gilt…wire cage by the contemplation of a distant cat。 She did not； however； lose her sense of what was practical； but said calmly： 〃Your husband was wounded in South Africa； you told me？ It looks as if he wasn't quite。。。。 I think you should have a doctor！〃
The seamstress's answer； slow and matter…of…fact； was worse than her emotion。
〃No； m'm； he isn't mad。〃
Crossing to the hearth…whose Persian…blue tiling had taken her so long to findCecilia stood beneath a reproduction of Botticelli's 〃Primavera；〃 and looked doubtfully at Mrs。 Hughs。 The Persian kitten； sleepy and disturbed on the bosom of her blouse； gazed up into her face。 'Consider me；' it seemed to say； 'I am worth consideration； I am of a piece with you； and everything round you。 We are both elegant and rather slender； we both love warmth and kittens； we both dislike interference with our fur。 You took a long time to buy me； so as to get me perfect。 You see that woman over there！ I sat on her lap this morning while she was sewing your curtains。 She has no right in here； she's not what she seems； she can bite and scratch； I know； her lap is skinny； she drops water from her eyes。 She made me wet all down my back。 Be careful what you're doing； or she'll make you wet down yours！'
All that was like the little Persian kitten within Ceciliacosiness and love of pretty things； attachment to her own abode with its high… art lining； love for her mate and her own kitten； Thyme； dread of disturbanceall made her long to push this woman from the room； this woman with the skimpy figure； and eyes that； for all their patience； had in them something virago…like； this woman who carried about with her an atmosphere of sordid grief； of squalid menaces； and scandal。 She longed all the more because it could well be seen from the seamstress's helpless attitude that she too would have liked an easy life。 To dwell on things like this was to feel more than thirty… eight！
Cecilia had no pocket； Providence having removed it now for some time past； but from her little bag she drew forth the two essentials of gentility。 Taking her nose； which she feared was shining； gently within one； she fumbled in the other。 And again she looked doubtfully at Mrs。 Hughs。 Her heart said： 'Give the poor woman half a sovereign； it might comfort her！' But her brain said： 'I owe her four…and…six； after what she's just been saying about her husband and that girl and Hilary； it mayn't be safe to give her more。' She held out two half…crowns； and had an inspiration： 〃I shall mention to my sister what you've said； you can tell your husband that！〃
No sooner had she said this； however； than she saw； from a little smile devoid of merriment and quickly extinguished； that Mrs。 Hughs did not believe she would do anything of the kind； from which she concluded that the seamstress was convinced of Hilary's interest in the little model。 She said hastily：
〃You can go now； Mrs。 Hughs。〃
Mrs。 Hughs went； making no noise or sign of any sort。
Cecilia returned to her scattered thoughts。 They lay there still； with a gleam of sun from the low window smearing their importance； she felt somehow that it did not now matter very much whether she and Stephen； in the interests of science； saw that man fall from his balloon； or； in the interests of art； heard Herr von Kraaffe sing his Polish songs； she experienced； too； almost a revulsion in favour of tinned milk。 After meditatively tearing up her note to Messrs。 Rose and Thorn； she lowered the bureau lid and left the room。
Mounting the stairs； whose old oak banisters on either side were a real joy； she felt she was stupid to let vague； sordid rumours； which； after all； affected her but indirectly； disturb her morning's work。 And entering Stephen's dressing…room she stood looking at his boots。
Inside each one of them was a wooden soul； none had any creases； none had any holes。 The moment they wore out； their wooden souls were taken from them and their bodies given to the poor； whilstin accordance with that theory； to hear a course of lectures on which a scattered thought was even now inviting herthe wooden souls migrated instantly to other leathern bodies。
Looking at that polished row of boots； Cecilia felt lonely and unsatisfied。 Stephen worked in the Law Courts； Thyme worked at Art； both were doing something definite。 She alone； it seemed； had to wait at home； and order dinner； answer letters； shop； pay calls； and do a dozen things that failed to stop her thoughts from dwelling on that woman's tale。 She was not often conscious of the nature of her life； so like the lives of many hundred women in this London； which she said she could not stand； but which she stood very well。 As a rule； with practical good sense； she kept her doubting eyes fixed friendlily on every little phase in turn； enjoying well enough fitting the Chinese puzzle of her scattered thoughts； setting out on each small adventure with a certain cautious zest； and taking Stephen with her as far as he allowed。 This last year or so； now that Thyme was a grown girl； she had felt at once a loss of purpose and a gain of liberty。 She hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry。 It freed her for the tasting of more things； more people； and more Stephen； but it left a little void in her heart； a little soreness round it。 What would Thyme think if she heard this story about her uncle？ The thought started a whole train of doubts that had of late beset her。 Was her little daughter going to turn out like herself？ If not； why not？ Stephen joked about his daughter's skirts； her hockey； her friendship with young men。 He joked about the way Thyme refused to let him joke about her art or about her interest in 〃the people。〃 His joking was a source of irritation to Cecilia。 For； by woman's instinct rather than by any reasoning process； she was conscious of a disconcerting change。 Amongst the people she knew； young men were not now attracted by girls as they had been in her young day
