"
He groaned.
"My speech will be Cockney and my manners a little forward," he said, in
a tone of misery. "If I see your piano I shall want to vamp."
"I think," she murmured, "that for the sake of the Alfred Burton who is
sitting by my side to-night, I shall still be kind to you. Perhaps you
will not need my sympathy, though. Perhaps you will adapt yourself
wholly to your new life when the time comes."
He shook his head.
"There are cells in one's memory," he muttered. "I don't understand--I
don't know how they get there--but don't you remember that time last
summer when I was picnicking with my common friends? We were drinking
beer out of a stone jug, we were singing vulgar songs, we were revelling
in the silly puerilities of a bank holiday out of doors. And I saw your
face and something came to me. I saw for a moment over the wall. Dear,
I am very sure that if I go back there will be times when I shall see
over the wall, and my heart will ache and the whole taste of life will
be like dust between my teeth."
She leaned towards him.
"It is your fault if I say this," she whispered. "It is you yourself
who have prepared the way. Why not make sure of riches? The world can
give so much to the rich.
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