Matilda could bear this side of the affair, but resented the allusion to the butcher with undiminished fervour.

"Oh! what awful sn.o.bs you all are!" Katherine exclaimed, exasperated out of her amused tolerance at last. "I am not the least ashamed of him: I am proud, on the contrary. He was honest and made money. Why are you and Mabel and all your friends such absurd shams, Tild!--There is nothing disgraceful in being lower middle cla.s.s; it is honourable and worthy.

Why on earth pretend to belong to another, when anyone who knows can see it is untrue--or if you hate your real station, then do as I am doing, educate yourself out of it."

"Educate myself out of it!" Matilda was incensed. "Why, I'm sure we are all as fairly educated as any ladies need be."

This point of view naturally ended the argument for Katherine; she could only smile again.

"All right--it is your birthday, dear old Tild, so I won't quarrel with you! By the way, where is Bob Hartley? I don't see him here to-night."

The fiance of Gladys was prevented from coming by a severe cold, she was informed.

And so the evening pa.s.sed with the Bunny Hug and games, and the gramophone shouted forth its n.i.g.g.e.r songs, in which they all joined.

"Hasn't it been too lovely, Kitten," Matilda said affectionately--her whilom indignation fled as they walked up the narrow stairs. "I've never had such a perfect birthday party, and I am sure you could not have had a more refined, enjoyable evening, not in any home."

Katherine kissed her as she turned into her room.

"You dear old Tild," she said, and then presently Gladys came in.

Katherine was seated in a shrunk dressing-gown which she had left behind, and Em'ly had lighted a fire in the attic grate.

The two girls looked at one another, and then Gladys was asked to sit down.

"I know what you are going to say," and Katherine's voice was deep and level. "You would not have to say it if you had not always been such a fool, my poor Glad--you have got into trouble, of course, and Bob Hartley is not playing the game."

Gladys burst into pa.s.sionate sobs.

"However did you guess, Kitten! Why, Tild doesn't know a thing!"

"Most likely not--Well, what do you want him to do--marry you?"

"Why, of course, Katherine; that is what he promised most solemnly beforehand--at Brighton. You know it is his mother who has kept him back; his Aunt Eliza, with whom we stayed, is quite willing for me. I am sure I'm as good as him, anyway."

Further sobs.

"Oh! that part does not matter a bit, as good or not as good--these awful men like Bob Hartley always seduce women with promises, solemn promises, of matrimony and that sort of stuff; if they meant them, they would not forestall matters--vile brutes!"

"There is no good in abusing Bob, Kitten; he has always meant kind; it is his mother, I tell you, has got at him!"

"Does she know?"

"Oh, my! I hope not. No one knows but you--and Bob."

"Have you told him he must marry you at once?"

"Yes, I've implored him to on my bended knees."

"And he has refused?"

"Yes--he can't break his mother's heart, he says, and speaks of going to Australia."

"Very well--go to bed now, dear--I will see him to-morrow and see what I can do. I think he will marry you next week, perhaps, after all. You must undertake the inventing of a reason for the suddenness to the family, if I accomplish the fact. Go now, dear--I want to think."

Gladys sobbed her grat.i.tude.

"And you don't believe I am really bad, Kitten, do you? Indeed, I never wanted--anything--but Bob--We went to the theatre one night and had a bit of supper--and afterwards, I was so afraid he would be off to Carry Green if I did not do as he wished."

Two great tears grew in Katherine's beautiful eyes, and rolled slowly down her white cheeks.

"I think--most men are devils, Glad--but nine-tenths of the women are fools--and fools always have to pay the price of everything in life. A woman always loses a man if she gives way to him against her conscience.

You felt you were sinning all the time, I suppose?"

"Why, of course, Kitten--I'm really a good girl."

"Then what else could you expect? If you feel you are doing wrong, you must know you will be punished--that att.i.tude of yours was bound to have drawn--this. I tell you, Glad, no one of your sort can afford to step one foot aside out of the narrow path. You've 'sinned,' as you call it--for love. It gave you no pleasure and you have practically lost Bob--remember this, and never give way to him in anything again."

"Why did you have the tears in your eyes, Katherine--? You so cold!"

"It was stupid of me, but the incredible pitifulness of some parts of life touched me for a moment. Now go to bed, dear--and keep your courage up--don't let Tild know; it would break her heart--and think of Mabel!"

"Oh! My!" wailed Gladys, and went towards the door.

Katherine jumped up suddenly, and gave her the ten-pound note which had been lying under a box of matches on the imitation oak dressing-chest.

"Here, Gladys, get the little black frock for me just as cheaply as ever you can. Lady Garribardine will never know what it cost; she is accustomed to pay forty or fifty pounds for her evening dresses--and you keep all the rest. If--if--Bob should not be reasonable to-morrow, it might be useful for you to have some money that you need not account to Tild for--I know she looks after everything that you have got."

"But you will make him, Katherine, oh! you will if you can--you are so clever--and he'll be in the train if you go by the early one. You'll have him alone."

"Very well. Bring me up a slice of bread or anything you can find when you first go down; I can't stand the family breakfast, and I will just rush off by the eight-five."

What she said to Mr. Bob Hartley she never told anyone--but it was extraordinarily effectual--it contained biting scorn and heavy threats.

Among them, his chief should know of his conduct that very day, before he could possibly sneak off to Australia, unless he went and got a special license. The Registry Office would do very well, but by the following Wednesday Gladys must be his wife, or Katherine's scorpion whip would fall. He should be thrashed by Fred and Bert and Charlie Prodgers, too! She would have no mercy upon him--none at all.

"You poor, mean, sanctimonious, miserable cur," were some of her parting words to him. "Come into this telegraph office with me and send this wire to Gladys this minute. 'Will you honour me by marrying me on Tuesday? If so, get ready.' You can pretend you had a secret wedding to save expense, and tell them at home on Christmas day."

Mr. Hartley was a thorough coward; his plans were not matured enough yet to go to Australia, and his present berth was a good one, so he felt it was wiser to give in and do what he was bid. And presently Katherine got into a taxi and was whirled back to Berkeley Square, where later in the day her sister's telegram of rapturous thanks came to her.

But when she was alone that night by her comfortable fire, she let a volume of Flaubert drop on her knees and looked into the coals, her thoughts going back to the painful incident. Here was a plain indication of the working of laws shown in her own case and the difference between it and that of Gladys. Alas! the piteous fate of weaklings!

And then she set herself to a.n.a.lyse things. "Whether the accepted idea of morality is right or is wrong--of G.o.d or of man, those who break its laws are certainly drawing to themselves the frightfully strong current of millions of people's disapproval and so must run great risk of punishment." Thus she mused and then her eyes grew wide as she gazed into the glowing coals. _What_ if some day she should have to pay some price for her own deviation from recognized standards?

CHAPTER XII

Christmas Day fell upon a Tuesday in 1911, and on the Sat.u.r.day before Katherine Bush accompanied her employer, and the two dogs, down to Blissington in the motor. She had only been in one for short drives in the Bois with Lord Algy, so to tear through the frozen country was a great joy to her, although, not possessing proper wraps, she was rather cold.