England -- Fiction; Socialism -- Fiction; Socialists -- Fiction
‘I shan’t see him till he comes to my house,’ replied Alice sharply.
The old woman stood on the doorstep till her daughter was out of sight,
then sighed and returned to her kitchen.
Alice returned to her more fashionable quarter by omnibus. Though Rodman
had declined to make any change in their establishment, he practised
economy in the matter of his wife’s pin-money. Gone were the delights
of shopping, gone the little lunches in confectioners’ shops to which
Alice, who ate sweet things like a child, had been much addicted. Even
the carriage she could seldom make use of, for Rodman had constant need
of it--to save cab-fares, he said. It was chiefly employed in taking
him to and from the City, where he appeared to have much business at
present.
On reaching home Alice found a telegram from her husband.
‘Shall bring three friends to dinner. Be ready for us at half-past
seven.’
Yet he had assured her that he would dine quietly alone with her at
eight o’clock. Alice, who was weary of the kind of men her husband
constantly brought, felt it as a bitter disappointment. Besides, it was
already after six, and there were no provisions in the house. But for
her life she durst not cause Rodman annoyance by offering a late or
insufficient dinner. She thanked her stars that her return had been even
thus early.
The men when they presented themselves were just of the kind she
expected--loud-talking--their interests divided between horse-racing and
the money-market; she was a cipher at her own table, scarcely a remark
being addressed to her. The conversation was meaningless to her;
it seemed, indeed, to be made purposely mysterious; terms of the
stock-exchange were eked out with nods and winks. Rodman was in far
better spirits than of late, whence Alice gathered that some promising
rascality was under consideration.
The dinner over, she was left to amuse herself as she could in the
drawing-room. Rodman and his friends continued their talk round the
table, and did not break up till close upon mid night. Then she heard
the men take their departure. Rodman presently came up to her and threw
himself into a chair. His face was very red, a sign with which Alice was
familiar; but excessive potations apparently had not produced the usual
effect, for he was still in the best of tempers.
‘Seen that young blackguard?’ he began by asking.
‘I went to see mother, and he came while I was there.’
‘He’ll have to look after himself in future. You don’t catch me helping
him again.’
‘He says Mr. Yottle came to see them to-day.’
‘To see who?’
‘Dick and his wife. He heard them talking about us.’
Rodman laughed.
‘Let ‘em go ahead! I wish them luck.’
‘But can’t they ruin us if they like?’
‘It’s all in a life. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been ruined, old
girl. Let’s enjoy ourselves whilst we can. There’s nothing like plenty
of excitement.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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