The tea had
been standing while they talked, and was black and strong. She drank it
eagerly, and a wave of nervous energy rushed over her, surging up to her
brain like light and electricity. It gave to her a sort of reckless
valour to say just the thing she felt. She turned towards Julian with a
manner that was half shrew, half wildcat--street girls cannot always
compass the impressive, though they may feel the great eternities
nestling round their hearts--and cried out:
"I just hate you!"
All her jealousy rang in that cry, smothering the whisper of the maternal
passion that went ever with it. Julian could no longer doubt the truth of
Valentine's words.
"Cuckoo, don't be silly," he said hastily, and awkwardly enough.
"Silly!" she burst out. "What do I care for that? I ain't silly, either,
and I ain't blind like you are. I can see where you're goin'."
"I shall go away from here," Julian said, trying to laugh, "if you talk
in this ridiculous way."
She sprang up and ran passionately in front of the door, as if she
thought he was really going to escape.
"No, you don't," she said, and her accent seemed to draw near to that of
Whitechapel as her voice rose higher. "Not till I've said what I mean.
Pages:
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390