"But I sha'n't be when I get to know the
girls in the class a little better."
"I have some friends," he said thoughtfully, "women, of course, who
would come and see you with pleasure. And yet," he added, "I am not
sure that you would not be better off without knowing them."
"They are fashionable ladies, perhaps?" she said simply.
He nodded.
"They belong to the Juggernaut here which is called society. They
would probably try to draw you a little way into its meshes. I think,
yes, I am sure," he added, looking at her, "that you are better off
outside."
"And I am quite sure of it," she answered laughing. "I haven't the
clothes or the time or the inclination for that sort of thing.
Besides, I am going to be much too happy ever to be lonely."
"I myself," he said, "am not an impressionable person. But they tell
me that most people, especially of your age, find London a terribly
lonely place."
"I can understand that," she answered, "unless they really had
something definite to do. I have felt a little of that myself. I think
London frightens me a little. It is so different from the country, and
there is a great deal that is difficult to understand."
"For instance?"
"The great number of poor people who find it so hard to live," she
answered. "Some of the small houses round here are awful, and Mr.
Malcolm--he is the vicar of the church here, and he called
yesterday--tells me that they are nothing like so bad as in some other
parts of London.
Pages:
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222