Fool Errant Read Free

dance a little,” the eager voice went on. “Of course I don’t know if Cissie is dancing. I really knew her awfully little—only just for a fortnight last winter when Cousin Catherine and I were at Brighton. I got to know her because she dropped her bag and I picked it up, and she told me then she could get me a job if I ever wanted one. And she gave me an address to write to, so when I got desperate about being pronounced man and wife with James— James , I wrote.”
    â€œI say, you know, twenty pounds isn’t such a lot of money.”
    â€œOh it is —for me—it’s a tremendous lot. Cousin Catherine gave it to me out of her silver teapot the night before she died. Emily got everything else because she was a niece and I was only an umpteenth cousin. Emily got the teapot. But I didn’t mind about that, because it was a frightfully ugly one. I didn’t tell her about the twenty pounds, and I didn’t tell Cissie how much it was. So you see I don’t tell everything, though you think I do.”
    â€œWhy do you tell me?”
    They turned and began to walk back towards the station.
    â€œI don’t know. It doesn’t matter, does it? You don’t mind?”
    â€œNo, I don’t mind. But—”
    â€œI don’t even know your name, and you don’t know mine. And if you met me to-morrow, you’d never, never know who I was. And perhaps some day you’ll see me dance, and you’ll never know that you nearly knocked me down in a dark lane and carried my bag and were very, very kind.”
    It was frightfully embarrassing; the whole situation was frightfully embarrassing.
    â€œL-look here—”
    â€œI’ve taken you frightfully out of your way. You needn’t come any farther—there won’t be any tramps now. I’ll go close up to the station and wait. And you can go to wherever you’re staying. They’ll think you’re lost.”
    â€œI’m not staying anywhere.”
    â€œYou must be.”
    â€œI’m not. I’ve come down to look for a job. I came down to-night because I wanted to get in before anyone else to-morrow morning; but I had my pocket picked in the train, so I haven’t any money till I get back to town.”
    He would not have any then, but this was a fact which he did not feel bound to explain. The lost pocket-book had contained his last fiver.
    â€œThey left my return ticket,” he concluded cheerfully.
    â€œOh, I hope you’ll get your job.”
    â€œSo do I.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œSecretary to an inventor.”
    He heard a little startled gasp:
    â€œNot Ambrose Minstrel! Oh—you mustn’t!”
    â€œI say—”
    â€œYou mustn’t! Oh, what shall I do? There’s my train—I can’t miss it! Quick—my bag!”
    She was off. He heard the bag bump on the road; his hand, groping for it, met hers, bare like his own. He caught at the bag, and they began to run.
    The train was coming into view along a raised embankment; the lighted windows seemed high up and very far away. A cloud of orange rosy smoke was blown backwards from the engine; it hung above the dead whiteness of the low fog.
    â€œRun!” said the girl.
    She took his left hand, and they raced down the hill. They reached the station whilst the train was still some hundreds of yards away.
    â€œGet my ticket! Oh, I’m so glad I thought of that! Here’s a pound—get it quickly!”
    When he came back to her with the ticket, the train was in the station. Two men got out.
    The girl took her ticket and the change, snatched up her bag, and ran across the platform. Hugo followed. The door slammed on her. The train began to move. She leaned out.
    He felt an overwhelming desire to see her face. But she was only a slim black silhouette against the carriage lamp; it shone behind her head like a yellow aureole. She leaned out.
    â€œDon’t go