1
Miriam turned swiftly in her chair and looked up. But Mr. Hancock was
already at the door. There was only a glimpse of his unknown figure
arrested for a moment with its back to her as he pulled the door wide
enough to pass through. The door closed crisply behind him and his crisp
unhastening footsteps went away out of hearing along the thickly
carpeted hall.
"_Dear_ me!" she breathed through firmly held lips, standing up. Her
blood was aflame. The thudding of her heart shook the words upon her
breath. She was fighting against something more than amazement. She knew
that only part of her refused to believe. In a part of her brain
illumination leaving the shock already far away in the past, was at work
undisturbed, flowing rapidly down into thoughts set neatly in the
language of the world. She held them back, occupying herself
irrelevantly about the room, catching back desperately at the familiar
trains of revery suggested by its objects; cancelling the incident and
summoning it again and again without prejudice or afterthought. Each
time the shock recurred unchanged, firmly registered, its quality
indubitable. She sat down at last to examine it and find her thoughts.
Taking a pencil in a trembling hand she began carefully adding a long
column of figures. A system of adding that had been recommended to her
by the family mathematician now suggested itself for the first time in
connection with her own efforts....
How _dare_ he?
It was deliberate. A brusque casual tone, deliberately put on; a tone he
sometimes used to the boys downstairs, or to cabmen. How did he dare to
use it to her? It must cease instantly. It was not to be suffered for a
moment. Not for a moment could she hold a position which would
entitle any one, particularly any man to speak to her in
that--outrageous--_official_ tone. Why not? It was the way of business
people and officials all the world over.... Then he should have begun as
he meant to go on.... I won't endure it now. No one has ever spoken to
me in that way--and no one shall, with impunity. I have been fortunate.
They have spoiled me.... I should never have come if I had found they
had that sort of tone. It was his difference that made me come.
2
Those two had talked to him and made him think. The aunt and cousins had
prepared the way. But their hostility had been harmless. These two had
approved. That was clear at the week-end. They must have chaffed him and
given him their blessing. Then, for the first time, he had thought,
sitting alone and pondering reasonably. It was he himself who had drawn
back. He was quite right. He belonged to that side of society and must
keep with them and go their way. Very wise and right ... but damn his
insolent complacency....
* * * * *
"Everything a professional man does, must stabilise his position."
Perhaps that is true. But then his business relationships must be
business relationships from the first ... that was expected. The wonder
of the Wimpole Street life was that it had not been so. Instead of an
employer there had been a sensitive isolated man; prosperous and strong
outwardly and as suffering and perplexed in mind as any one could be. He
had not hesitated to seek sympathy.
3
_Any_ fair-minded onlooker would condemn him. Anyone who could have seen
the way he broke through resistance to social intercourse outside the
practice. He may have thought he was being kind to a resourceless girl.
It was _not_ to resourcelessness that he had appealed. It was not that.
That was not the truth.
4
He would have cynical thoughts. The truth was that something came in and
happened of itself before one knew. A woman always knows first. It was
not clear until Babington. But there was a sharp glimpse then. He must
have known how amazed they would be at his cycling over after he had
neglected them for years, on that one Sunday. They had concealed their
amazement from him. But it was they who had revealed things. There was
nothing imaginary after that in taking one wild glance and leaving
things to go their way. Nothing. No one was to blame. And now he knew
and had considered and had made an absurd reasonable decision and taken
ridiculous prompt action.
* * * * *
A business relationship ... by _all_ means. But he shall acknowledge and
apologise. He shall explain his insulting admission of fear. He shall
admit in plain speech what has accounted for his change of manner.
* * * * *
Then that little horror is also condemned. _She_ is not a wealthy
efficient woman of the world.
* * * * *
Men are simply paltry and silly--all of them.
* * * * *
In pain and fear she wandered about her room, listening for her bell. It
had gone; the meaning of their days had gone; trust and confidence could
never come back. A door was closed. His life was closed on her for
ever....
5
The bell rang softly in its usual way. The incident had been an
accident; an illusion. Even so; she had been prepared for it, without
knowing she was prepared, otherwise she would not have understood so
fully and instantly. If she had only imagined it, it had changed
everything, her interpretation of it was prophetic; just as before he
had not known where they were so now the rupture was imminent whether he
knew it or no. She found herself going upstairs breathing air thick with
pain. This was dreadful.... She could not bear much of this.... The
patient had gone. He would be alone. They would be alone. To be in his
presence would be a relief ... this was appalling. This pain could not
be endured. The sight of the room holding the six months would be
intolerable. She drew her face together, but her heart was beating
noisily. The knob of the door handle rattled in her trembling hand ...
large flat brass knob with a row of grooves to help the grasp ... she
had never observed that before. The door opened before her. She flung it
wider than usual and pushed her way, leaving it open ... he was standing
impermanently with a sham air of engrossment at his writing table and
would turn on his heel and go the moment she was fairly across the room.
Buoyant with pain she flitted through the empty air towards the distant
bracket-table. Each object upon it stood marvellously clear. She reached
it and got her hands upon the familiar instruments ... no sound; he had
not moved. The flame of the little spirit-lamp burned unwavering in the
complete stillness ... now was the moment to drop thoughts and anger. Up
here was something that had been made up here, real and changeless and
independent. The least vestige of tumult would destroy it. It was
something that no one could touch; neither his friends nor he nor she.
They had not made it and they could not touch it. Nothing had happened
to it; and he had stood quietly there long enough for it to re-assert
itself. Steadily with her hands full of instruments she turned towards
the sterilising tray. The room was empty. Pain ran glowing up her arms
from her burden of nauseating relics of the needs of some complacent
patient ... the room was stripped, a west-end surgery, among scores of
other west-end surgeries, a prison claiming her by the bonds of the
loathsome duties she had learned.