I don’t remember that the Walham Green _ménage_ and the quality of
these people, nor the light they threw on Marion, detracted in the
slightest degree at that time from the intent resolve that held me to
make her mine. I didn’t like them. But I took them as part of the
affair. Indeed, on the whole, I think they threw her up by an effect of
contrast; she was so obviously controlling them, so consciously
superior to them.
More and more of my time did I give to this passion that possessed me.
I began to think chiefly of ways of pleasing Marion, of acts of
devotion, of treats, of sumptuous presents for her, of appeals she
would understand. If at times she was manifestly unintelligent, in her
ignorance became indisputable, I told myself her simple instincts were
worth all the education and intelligence in the world. And to this day
I think I wasn’t really wrong about her. There was something
extraordinarily fine about her, something simple and high, that
flickered in and out of her ignorance and commonness and limitations
like the tongue from the mouth of a snake....
One night I was privileged to meet her and bring her home from an
entertainment at the Birkbeck Institute. We came back on the
underground railway and we travelled first-class—that being the highest
class available. We were alone in the carriage, and for the first time
I ventured to put my arm about her.
“You mustn’t,” she said feebly.
“I love you,” I whispered suddenly with my heart beating wildly, drew
her to me, drew all her beauty to me and kissed her cool and
unresisting lips.
“Love me?” she said, struggling away from me, “Don’t!” and then, as the
train ran into a station, “You must tell no one.... I don’t know....
You shouldn’t have done that....”
Then two other people got in with us and terminated my wooing for a
time.
When we found ourselves alone together, walking towards Battersea, she
had decided to be offended. I parted from her unforgiven and terribly
distressed.
When we met again, she told me I must never say “that” again.
I had dreamt that to kiss her lips was ultimate satisfaction. But it
was indeed only the beginning of desires. I told her my one ambition
was to marry her.
“But,” she said, “you’re not in a position—What’s the good of talking
like that?”