During the next days the idea of making my home in London, and playing
fairy godmother to the tenants in a block of flats, took an
ever-deepening root in my heart. I pondered on it incessantly and
worked out plans as to ways and means.
Bridget should go with me as general factotum, for my method of living
must be as simple as possible, since the neighbours would be more likely
to confide their troubles to the ear of one who was, apparently, in the
same position of life as themselves. Smart clothing would be
unnecessary also, and a hundred and one luxuries of a leisured life. I
mentally drew up a list of things taboo, and regarded it with--let me be
honest--lingering regret. I was quite, quite willing to deny myself,
but it is folly to pretend that it didn't cost a pang. I _like_ good
clothes and dainty meals, and motor-cars, and space, and luxury, and
people to wait upon me when I'm tired, and unlimited supplies of
flowers, and fruit, and hot water, to say nothing of my own little share
of variety and fun. Down at the bottom of my heart, a lurking doubt of
myself stirred into life, and spoke with insistent voice:--
"All very well, Evelyn, but can you _keep it up_? Are you brave enough,
strong enough, unselfish enough to give up all that has hitherto made
your life, and to be satisfied with living through others? Won't the
time come when nature will rebel, and demand a turn for yourself? And
_then_, Evelyn, _then_ what are you going to do? Could you ever respect
yourself again if, having put your shoulder to the wheel, you drew back
and lapsed into selfish indifference?"
As for Aunt Emmeline, she turned on the cold tap, and kept it on at a
continuous trickle.
"Exaggerated nonsense! You always _were_ exaggerated, Evelyn, from a
child. Be kind, of course; that's only your duty, but I call it
officious and presumptuous to interfere in other people's lives. _You_
of all people! At your age! With your looks--"
"What have my looks to do with it?"
"My dear, it is not your fault, but I've said it before, and I say it
again--you are _showy_! There is something about you which makes people
stare. Dear Kathie could pass along quietly, or sit in a corner of a
room and be conveniently overlooked, but you--I am not paying you a
compliment, my dear, I consider it is a misfortune!--you _take the_
_eye_! Wherever you go, people will notice you and gossip about your
movements. At twenty-six, and with your appearance, I ask you candidly,
as aunt to niece--_do_ you consider yourself a suitable person to live
alone, and minister to widowers?"
"Well, if you put it like that, I _don't_! But what of the children who
shriek, and have holes in their stockings? Mightn't they like me better
just because I _am_ young and look nice?"
I laughed as I spoke, but Aunt Emmeline was so pleased that I showed
some glimmerings of reason, that she said suavely:--
"Wait ten years, dear! Till your hair is grey! You will age early with
those sharp features. In ten or twelve years you can do as you please."