"I know someone who will let you a room, just as an address, in case
those horrid sisters of yours make inquiries." Lalage turned round
suddenly from the looking-glass, her hands still busy with her hair.
"Who is she? Where does she live?" Jimmy asked lazily, being at the
moment more interested in that same hair than in anything else.
"She lives just the other side of Baker Street, and really she's a kind
of agent, you know." Lalage made a gesture of supreme disgust. "But
she's not so bad as most of them, and, as her husband is a clerk in the
Council office, anyone would tell your people that the house is quite
respectable. Why, it belongs to the mayor himself."
Jimmy frowned. He loathed the idea of putting himself in the hands of
people of that sort, people who would understand exactly how matters
stood, and judge, not only himself, but Lalage as well, according to
their own standards.
"I would sooner we had nothing whatever to do with any of them," he
said.
He was touching mud for the first time in his life, real mud, and he did
not like the feeling of it. Moreover, he had suddenly grown very
particular about Lalage. They might not be married, in fact he had
decided that there could be no question of marriage between them; but,
none the less, as long as he was going under another name, he wanted
people to believe they had legalised their union, and to respect Lalage
accordingly. Had he not belonged to a family of position, he might have
seen himself as a coward or a cad; but the Griersons were essentially of
the Victorian age, and so he was able to quiet his conscience with
platitudes; whilst under the seeming calmness with which Lalage had
accepted his proposal, she was too glad of any change from the nightmare
of the past to be very critical. She hoped--that was all, resolutely
refusing to allow herself any fears or misgivings. And, after all, Jimmy
was very young so far as these things were concerned, and Lalage was
even younger; so, probably, they would not have listened to, much less
have believed, anyone who had warned them that they were attempting the
impossible. They were happy at the moment, having put the past behind
them, and they were ready to assume that their happiness would last,
ignoring its dangerous insecure foundations.
In the end, Lalage had her way, so far as the room was concerned. Mrs.
Fagin, the landlady, scenting money easily earned, was absolutely
servile. Jimmy stammered a little over his explanations, but Lalage put
things more plainly. "He will seldom be here; in fact I do not think he
will ever actually need the room," she said. "But it will be an address
for his letters, and you will know what to say if there are any
inquiries. What would be your terms?"
Mrs. Fagin looked at Jimmy, as if to get his measure. "I'm sure I don't
know, sir," she began. "We haven't had that same thing before, but----."
"He will pay three shillings a week," Lalage interrupted, "and begin
next week. That should suit you, Mrs. Fagin. Very well," and she sailed
out.
Jimmy looked at her admiringly. "You do know how to deal with them,
Lalage," he remarked.
She sighed a little wearily. "I've had to learn that, and a good many
other things, since I came to town."
Down at the apartment house in the dreary suburban street, Mrs. Benn
accepted a week's notice from Jimmy with a sniff of anger.
"Very well, sir. You know your own business best, though Mrs. Marlow did
say as how you would be permanent. Without that, I shouldn't have gone
out of my way to give you our own best room, and to wear my health,
which is not too good, out in making you comfortable. But then, Mrs.
Marlow was evidently mistook all round, for she said you would keep
respectable hours and act as such."
Whereupon Jimmy lost his temper, paid her a week in lieu of notice, and
went straight back to Lalage, who received him with delight. "So you
haven't changed your mind at the last moment, as you would have done if
you had been wise, and good and," she laughed mischievously,
"Grierson-like."
"All I care about is being good to you, sweetheart," he answered. "But
why do you say 'Grierson-like'?"
She looked at him critically, her head a little on one side. "Because
you're two men--James Grierson, who is stodgy and respectable and ought
to marry what the other Griersons call a good girl, that is one with
money; and Jimmy, who is awfully sweet and unselfish, just the opposite
to James. Just now, you're Jimmy, the nice side of you is uppermost; but
some day it may be the other way about and then you'll run off and leave
poor Lalage."
He flushed, and tried to draw her to him. "Never, never," he declared.
"I shall always stick to you. Who else have I got?"
She shook her head. "You've got your own people, always, ready to have
you, when you'll be one of them; whilst I'm all alone, and only Lalage,
the girl you met by chance in Oxford Street."
Her words reawakened his curiosity as to her past. Twice before he had
tried to learn her story, but now, as on those occasions, she baffled
his questions.
"I am Lalage Penrose, that's all. I was a fool, and I've paid for my
folly, and there's nothing else worth telling."
"Still, I should like to hear," he persisted.
"Well, perhaps you shall some day, if you don't turn into James Grierson
before then. But--but, don't ask me, Jimmy." Her bantering manner
changed suddenly, and with a queer little sob she jumped up and hurried
into the other room.
Jimmy did not try to follow her. Instead, he lighted a cigarette, and
endeavoured to settle down to work on an article which had been
suggested by a paragraph in that morning's Record. A quarter of an hour
later Lalage came back with a little bundle of his socks in her hand.
"These want darning," she remarked; then, in the most natural manner,
she sat down in the big wicker chair beside him, and started to ply her
needle.
From time to time Jimmy glanced up from his writing. He was breaking
the moral code in which he had been brought up, the code which he knew,
as every sane man does know, is essentially right in principle; he was
risking a rupture with his own people who, certainly, would never
tolerate Lalage; he was face to face with an ugly financial situation,
almost penniless himself and with another dependent on him; and yet he
felt more at peace than he had done for many months past. Lalage, intent
on her needlework, frowning prettily over the large holes in his socks,
looked so sweet and girlish, so entirely unsoiled, outwardly at least,
by what she had been through, that it seemed as if, after all, there
could be nothing wrong. Marriage was only a formality, he told himself,
and from that time on he tried to school himself to think so, almost
succeeding after a while.
When his article was finished, Jimmy glanced through it rapidly, made
one or two corrections, scrawled his signature at the foot, then turned
to Lalage. "What is the time, dear? Have any of your clock-men come down
the street lately?"
She looked up with a smile. "Yes, the watercress man, which means five
o'clock. Have you finished now?"
Jimmy nodded. "I thought of taking it down to the office now. It's
topical, so there's just a chance they'll use it to-night. Will you
come too?"
"Of course," she answered. "We can get a motor 'bus at the end of the
street, and it'll be a nice little run out. Besides, it'll be lucky if I
go with you. They'll be sure to take it. I've a feeling I shall bring
you luck. Don't you think so yourself?"
He kissed her lightly on the hair. "I'm sure you will, sweetheart. And
we want lots of luck just now."
"What a dirty place and what a grumpy old man!" Lalage remarked as they
came out of the _Record_ office, after handing the envelope to the surly
porter, who had taken it with an inarticulate growl and tossed it to a
waiting boy. "Still, if they use it and they're good to you, I don't
mind how dusty their passage is, or how bad tempered the porter looks."
Jimmy pressed her arm. "Good to us, you mean, don't you?"
She laughed. "Yes, good to us, I should say now." In the morning Jimmy
was out early to buy a copy of the paper; and, as she opened the door to
him, his radiant face told her the news.
"They've used it," he said, unnecessarily.
She laughed softly. "I felt sure they would. You see Lalage is lucky to
you already."