"I told her it was Harriet's own fault, and how shockingly she'd
behaved to you. I expect you'll come back again after the holidays,
don't you?"
Ida shook her head, and said nothing.
"But I shall see you again?" pleaded the little maid. "You know
we're always going to be friends, aren't we? Who shall I tell all my
dreams to, if I lose you?"
Dreams, in the literal sense of the word. Seldom a week went by, but
Maud had some weird vision of the night to recount to her friend,
the meaning of which they would together try to puzzle out; for it
was an article of faith with both that there were meanings to be
discovered, and deep ones.
Ida promised that she would not allow herself to be lost to her
friend, and they kissed, and went their several ways.
Throughout the day the door of Mr. Smales's shop had been open,
though the shutters were up. But at nightfall it was closed, and the
family drew around the tea-table in the parlour which smelt so of
drugs. It was their only sitting-room, for as much of the house as
could be was let to another family. Besides Mr. Smales and his
daughter Harriet, there sat at the table a lad of about thirteen,
with a dark, handsome face, which had something of a foreign cast
His eyes gleamed at all times with the light of a frank joyousness;
he laughed with the unrestraint of a perfectly happy nature.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72