When for the third time I saw Miss Swink glance at the watch upon her
wrist, and then out of the window, I knew she was waiting for some
one to pass. It wasn't Harrie. There was no necessity for furtive
watching for Harrie to pass, The latter's plaint of sickness was
evidently not convincing to the girl. I looked at the clock on the
mantel. I had been in the room twenty-seven minutes, but I didn't
agree with Selwyn that Miss Swink was in love with his brother. Her
engagement to him was due, I imagined, not so much to her literalness
as to her mother's management. An unholy desire to demonstrate that
the latter was not of a scientific kind possessed me, and quickly my
mind worked.
CHAPTER XIX
With eyes apparently on Mrs. Swink, I missed no movement of her
daughter, and when presently I saw her put her elbow on the
window-sill and wipe her lips with her handkerchief, and then make
movement as if to brush something away, I got up, made effort to say
good-by unhurriedly to her mother, and went over to the girl. As I
held out my hand I glanced out of the window. Exactly opposite, and
looking up at it, was Tom Cressy, his handkerchief to his lips.
I took the hand she held toward me in both of mine and something in
her eyes, something both mutinous and pleading, filled me with
sympathy I should not have felt, perhaps. She was only nineteen, and
her mother was obviously trying to make her marry Harrie when she
probably loved Tom. It was all so weak and so wicked, so sordid and
stupid, that I felt like Kitty when with Alice Herbert. I needed
disinfecting. I would have to get away before I said things I
shouldn't.
"Your mother says the masseuse comes this afternoon. Can't you take
a drive with me while she is here?" I turned to Mrs. Swink. "You
will not mind if she leaves you for a little while? It is too lovely
to stay indoors."
"No, indeed, I won't mind. I'll be glad to have her go if she'll do
it. Lately she won't do anything but sit at that window." Mrs.
Swink, who had gotten out of her chair with difficulty, turned to her
daughter, blinking her little, near-sighted eyes at her as if she
were beyond all human understanding; and the fretfulness of her tone
she made no effort to control. "She's that restless and hard to
please and hard to interest in anything that she nearly wears me out.
Girls didn't do like that when I was young. If I'd had a hundredth
part of what she's got--"
"What's the use of having things you don't want?" Miss Swink's
shoulders made resentful movement; then she turned to me, for a
moment hesitated.
"Thank you very much for asking me, but I can't go this afternoon. I
need exercise. If I don't walk a great deal I--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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