Miss Bickersteth's house was round the corner. So small a house that a
front room and a back room thrown together hardly gave Caro space enough
for tea-parties. But as the back room formed a recess, what space she
had was admirably adapted for the discreet arrangement of conversation
in groups. Its drawback was that persons in the recess remained unaware
of those who entered by the door of the front room, until they were
actually upon them.
Through that door, opened gently by the little servant, Miss
Bickersteth, in the recess, was heard inquiring with some excitement,
"Can't either of you tell me who she is?"
Only Nina and Laura were with her. Jane knew from their abrupt silence,
as she entered, that they had been discussing George Tanqueray's
marriage. She gathered that they had only just begun. There was nothing
for it but to invite them to go on, to behave in all things as if
nothing had happened, or could happen to her.
"Please don't stop," she said, "it sounds exciting."
"It is. But Mr. Nicholson disapproves of scandal," said Caro, not
without address.
"He's been talking nothing else to me," said Jane.
"Yes, but his scandal and our scandal----"
"Yours isn't in it with his. He's seen her."
Three faces turned to Nicholson's, as if it held for them the reflection
of his vision. Miss Bickersteth's face was flushed with embarrassment
that struggled with curiosity; Nina's was almost fierce in its sombre,
haggard intensity; Laura's, in its stillness, had an appealing anxiety,
an innocent distress. It was shadowless and unashamed; it expressed a
trouble that had in it no taint of self.
Nicky met them with an admirable air of light-heartedness. "Don't look
at me," he said. "I can't tell you anything."
"But--you've seen her," said Miss Bickersteth, seating herself at her
tea-table.
"I've seen her, but I don't know her," he said stiffly.
"She doesn't seem to have impressed him favourably," remarked Miss
Bickersteth to the world in general.
Nicky brought tea to Jane, who opened her eyes at him in deprecation of
his alarming reticence. It was as if she had said, "Oh, Nicky--to please
me--won't you say nice things about her?"
He understood. "Miss Holland would like me to tell you that she is
charming."
"Do you know her, Jinny?" It was Laura who spoke.
"No, dear. But I know George Tanqueray."
"As for Nicky," she went on, with high daring, "you mustn't mind what he
says. He wouldn't think any mortal woman good enough for George."
Nicky's soul smiled all to itself invisibly as it admired her.
"I see," said Miss Bickersteth. "The woman isn't good enough. I hope
she's good."
"Oh--good. Good as they make them."
"He knows," said Jane, "more than he lets out."
She withdrew into the corner where little Laura sat, while Miss
Bickersteth put her witness under severe cross-examination.
"Is it," she said, "the masterpiece of folly?"
"It looks like it. Only, she is good."
"Good, but impossible."
"Im-possible."
"Do you mean--for Him?"
"I mean in herself. Utterly impossible."
"But inevitable?"
"Not in the least, to judge by what I saw."
"Then," said Miss Bickersteth, "how _did_ it happen?"
"I don't know," said Nicky, "how it happened."
There was a long pause. Miss Bickersteth seemed almost to retire from
ground that was becoming perilous.
"You may as well tell them," said Jane, "what you do know."
"I have," said poor Nicky.
"You haven't told us who she is," said Nina.
"She is Mrs. George Tanqueray. She was, I believe, a very humble person.
The daughter--no--I think he said the niece--of his landlord."
"Uneducated?" said Miss Bickersteth.
"Absolutely."
"Common?"