CHAPTER XIII
The lunch hour in the office was only partly spent by Denham in theconsumption of food. Whether fine or wet, he passed most of it pacingthe gravel paths in Lincoln's Inn Fields. The children got to knowhis figure, and the sparrows expected their daily scattering ofbread-crumbs. No doubt, since he often gave a copper and almost always ahandful of bread, he was not as blind to his surroundings as he thoughthimself.
He thought that these winter days were spent in long hours beforewhite papers radiant in electric light; and in short passages throughfog-dimmed streets. When he came back to his work after lunch he carriedin his head a picture of the Strand, scattered with omnibuses, and ofthe purple shapes of leaves pressed flat upon the gravel, as if his eyeshad always been bent upon the ground. His brain worked incessantly, buthis thought was attended with so little joy that he did not willinglyrecall it; but drove ahead, now in this direction, now in that; and camehome laden with dark books borrowed from a library.
Mary Datchet, coming from the Strand at lunch-time, saw him one daytaking his turn, closely buttoned in an overcoat, and so lost in thoughtthat he might have been sitting in his own room.
She was overcome by something very like awe by the sight of him; thenshe felt much inclined to laugh, although her pulse beat faster. Shepassed him, and he never saw her. She came back and touched him on theshoulder.
"Gracious, Mary!" he exclaimed. "How you startled me!"
"Yes. You looked as if you were walking in your sleep," she said. "Areyou arranging some terrible love affair? Have you got to reconcile adesperate couple?"
"I wasn't thinking about my work," Ralph replied, rather hastily. "And,besides, that sort of thing's not in my line," he added, rather grimly.
The morning was fine, and they had still some minutes of leisure tospend. They had not met for two or three weeks, and Mary had much tosay to Ralph; but she was not certain how far he wished for her company.However, after a turn or two, in which a few facts were communicated, hesuggested sitting down, and she took the seat beside him. The sparrowscame fluttering about them, and Ralph produced from his pocket the halfof a roll saved from his luncheon. He threw a few crumbs among them.
"I've never seen sparrows so tame," Mary observed, by way of sayingsomething.
"No," said Ralph. "The sparrows in Hyde Park aren't as tame as this. Ifwe keep perfectly still, I'll get one to settle on my arm."
Mary felt that she could have forgone this display of animal goodtemper, but seeing that Ralph, for some curious reason, took a pride inthe sparrows, she bet him sixpence that he would not succeed.
"Done!" he said; and his eye, which had been gloomy, showed a sparkof light. His conversation was now addressed entirely to a baldcock-sparrow, who seemed bolder than the rest; and Mary took theopportunity of looking at him. She was not satisfied; his face was worn,and his expression stern. A child came bowling its hoop through theconcourse of birds, and Ralph threw his last crumbs of bread into thebushes with a snort of impatience.
"That's what always happens--just as I've almost got him," he said."Here's your sixpence, Mary. But you've only got it thanks to that bruteof a boy. They oughtn't to be allowed to bowl hoops here--"
"Oughtn't to be allowed to bowl hoops! My dear Ralph, what nonsense!"
"You always say that," he complained; "and it isn't nonsense. What's thepoint of having a garden if one can't watch birds in it? The street doesall right for hoops. And if children can't be trusted in the streets,their mothers should keep them at home."
Mary made no answer to this remark, but frowned.
She leant back on the seat and looked about her at the great housesbreaking the soft gray-blue sky with their chimneys.
"Ah, well," she said, "London's a fine place to live in. I believe Icould sit and watch people all day long. I like my fellow-creatures...."
Ralph sighed impatiently.
"Yes, I think so, when you come to know them," she added, as if hisdisagreement had been spoken.
"That's just when I don't like them," he replied. "Still, I don't seewhy you shouldn't cherish that illusion, if it pleases you." He spokewithout much vehemence of agreement or disagreement. He seemed chilled.
"Wake up, Ralph! You're half asleep!" Mary cried, turning and pinchinghis sleeve. "What have you been doing with yourself? Moping? Working?Despising the world, as usual?"
As he merely shook his head, and filled his pipe, she went on:
"It's a bit of a pose, isn't it?"
"Not more than most things," he said.
"Well," Mary remarked, "I've a great deal to say to you, but I must goon--we have a committee." She rose, but hesitated, looking down uponhim rather gravely. "You don't look happy, Ralph," she said. "Is itanything, or is it nothing?"
He did not immediately answer her, but rose, too, and walked with hertowards the gate. As usual, he did not speak to her without consideringwhether what he was about to say was the sort of thing that he could sayto her.
"I've been bothered," he said at length. "Partly by work, and partly byfamily troubles. Charles has been behaving like a fool. He wants to goout to Canada as a farmer--"
"Well, there's something to be said for that," said Mary; and theypassed the gate, and walked slowly round the Fields again, discussingdifficulties which, as a matter of fact, were more or less chronicin the Denham family, and only now brought forward to appease Mary'ssympathy, which, however, soothed Ralph more than he was aware of. Shemade him at least dwell upon problems which were real in the sense thatthey were capable of solution and the true cause of his melancholy,which was not susceptible to such treatment, sank rather more deeplyinto the shades of his mind.
Mary was attentive; she was helpful. Ralph could not help feelinggrateful to her, the more so, perhaps, because he had not told her thetruth about his state; and when they reached the gate again he wished tomake some affectionate objection to her leaving him. But his affectiontook the rather uncouth form of expostulating with her about her work.
"What d'you want to sit on a committee for?" he asked. "It's waste ofyour time, Mary."
"I agree with you that a country walk would benefit the world more,"she said. "Look here," she added suddenly, "why don't you come to us atChristmas? It's almost the best time of year."
"Come to you at Disham?" Ralph repeated.
"Yes. We won't interfere with you. But you can tell me later," she said,rather hastily, and then started off in the direction of Russell Square.She had invited him on the impulse of the moment, as a vision of thecountry came before her; and now she was annoyed with herself for havingdone so, and then she was annoyed at being annoyed.
"If I can't face a walk in a field alone with Ralph," she reasoned, "I'dbetter buy a cat and live in a lodging at Ealing, like Sally Seal--andhe won't come. Or did he mean that he WOULD come?"
She shook her head. She really did not know what he had meant. She neverfelt quite certain; but now she was more than usually baffled. Washe concealing something from her? His manner had been odd; his deepabsorption had impressed her; there was something in him that she hadnot fathomed, and the mystery of his nature laid more of a spell uponher than she liked. Moreover, she could not prevent herself from doingnow what she had often blamed others of her sex for doing--from endowingher friend with a kind of heavenly fire, and passing her life before itfor his sanction.
Under this process, the committee rather dwindled in importance;the Suffrage shrank; she vowed she would work harder at the Italianlanguage; she thought she would take up the study of birds. But thisprogram for a perfect life threatened to become so absurd that she verysoon caught herself out in the evil habit, and was rehearsing her speechto the committee by the time the chestnut-colored bricks of RussellSquare came in sight. Indeed, she never noticed them. She ran upstairsas usual, and was completely awakened to reality by the sight of Mrs.Seal, on the landing outside the office, inducing a very large dog todrink water out of a tumbler.
"Miss Markham has already arrived," Mrs. S
eal remarked, with duesolemnity, "and this is her dog."
"A very fine dog, too," said Mary, patting him on the head.
"Yes. A magnificent fellow," Mrs. Seal agreed. "A kind of St. Bernard,she tells me--so like Kit to have a St. Bernard. And you guard yourmistress well, don't you, Sailor? You see that wicked men don't breakinto her larder when she's out at HER work--helping poor souls who havelost their way.... But we're late--we must begin!" and scattering therest of the water indiscriminately over the floor, she hurried Mary intothe committee-room.