Fores, Mrs. Maldon? I see nothing of Mr. Fores,
or hardly. I'm your lady help, and he's your nephew--at least, he's
your great-nephew, and it's your house he comes to. I can't help being
in the house, can I? If you're thinking about last night, well, Mr.
Fores called to see how you were getting on, and I was just going out
to do some shopping. He walked down with me. I suppose I needn't tell
you I didn't ask him to walk down with me. He asked me. I couldn't
hardly say no, could I? And there were some parcels and he walked back
with me."
She felt so wise and so clever and the narrative seemed so entirely
natural, proper, and inevitable that she was tempted to continue--
"And supposing we _did_ go into a cinematograph for a minute or
two--what then?"
But she had no courage for the confession. As a wise woman she
perceived the advisability of letting well alone. Moreover, she hated
confessions, remorse, and gnashing of teeth.
And Mrs. Maldon regarded her worldly and mature air, with its touch of
polite condescension, as both comic and tragic, and thought sadly
of all the girl would have to go through before the air of mature
worldliness which she was now affecting could become natural to her.
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