I'm sure of it."
"Well--and you? You'll be writing something soon, won't you?"
"I think not. I've no mind to court failure a second time. My father has
secured me a post at a mercers in Ludgate Hill. I'm still to mingle with
books but they're not of the sort which used to interest me. They have
to do with figures. I've undertaken to keep the accounts."
"I wish you success. Mind you keep 'em correctly. I've my doubts about
that," rejoined Lavinia with a little laugh. "But I mustn't discourage
you."
"You'll never do that. I love even your chiding."
"That's nonsense."
"It's true. I swear it."
The talk was drifting into a personal channel and Lavinia swiftly
changed the subject. The rest of the way was occupied in friendly chat.
At parting Lancelot would have kissed her hand but she adroitly avoided
his homage. Not because she was averse but because she thought it
discreet.
Lavinia went to bed that night content with the world and with herself.
She felt a secret pleasure that she had in a way brought Vane back to
life though how she had done it she could not explain. At any rate,
there was no magic about it. It was a very ordinary thing--no
romance--and certainly no love. So at least she argued and ended by
thinking she had convinced herself.
In London Lavinia went back to her old lodgings in Little Queen Street,
and revived her acquaintance with Mrs.
Pages:
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284