Page:Delight - de la Roche - 1926.djvu/117

 a few days of each other and he had found himself possessed of the tiny fortune which they had by pinching and privation kept intact for him. Where he had been formerly dependent on charity for much of his good cheer, he now found himself the centre of a flattering group, always ready to listen to his endless stories and laugh at his confused jokes. Where he had hung over the most wretched little tannery hand while he drank his beer, in the hope of being treated, he now ordered sherry with his dinner, and thought nothing of treating a dozen at a time in the bar. A new eloquence fired his love scenes with Pearl. Night after night these took place, in the dim streets, in the park, where other shadows haunted the willow-fringed lagoon, or sitting on the decrepit sofa in the hallway on the third floor. He held her plump, red hands in his slender, pallid ones; his puffy eyes burned into the hazel depths of hers. She must be kind to him! What was the good of anything if lovely girls were not kind to poor lonely devils of Englishmen in a strange land? He would take her to England—by God, he would!—and make a lady of her one day. But he did not ask her to marry him. His ardour fanned her own love into a flame that made her toss about the bed all night, and ache with longing in the pale dawn when she dressed. A lady! A lady in England! Oh, if he would only ask her to be his wife. Otherwise she couldn't be a lady. . . . She asked Delight, and Delight said that in her opinion Silk was a proper villain and that Pearl had need to be careful of herself.

Pearl was angry. She would confide no more in Delight. She wondered if any other girl had been so tempted. That night sitting on the sofa, the seat of which sank in two deep holes where the occupants had to fit