Leonora | Page 5

they always avoided any prolonged encounter with other eyes. He was
a personable specimen of the clever and successful manufacturer. His
clothes were well cut, the necktie of a discreet smartness. His
grandfather had begun life as a working potter; nevertheless John
Stanway spoke easily and correctly in a refined variety of the broad
Five Towns accent; he could open a door for a lady, and was noted for
his neatness in compliment.
It was his ambition always to be calm, oracular, weighty; always to be
sure of himself; but his temperament was incurably nervous, restless,
and impulsive. He could not be still, he could not wait. Instinct drove
him to action for the sake of action, instinct made him seek continually
for notice, prominence, comment. These fundamental appetites had
urged him into public life--to the Borough Council and the Committee
of the Wedgwood Institution. He often affected to be buried in

cogitation upon municipal and private business affairs, when in fact his
attention was disengaged and watchful. Leonora knew that this was so
to-night. The idea of his duplicity took possession of her mind. Deeps
yawned before her, deeps that swallowed up the solid and charming
house and the comfortable family existence, as she glanced at that face
at once strange and familiar to her. 'Is it all right?' she kept thinking. 'Is
John all that he seems? I wonder whether he has ever committed
murder.' Yes, even this absurd thought, which she knew to be absurd,
crossed her mind.
'Where's Rose?' he demanded suddenly in the depressing silence of the
tea-table, as if he had just discovered the absence of his second
daughter.
'She's been working in her room all day,' said Leonora.
'That's no reason why she should be late for tea.'
At that moment Rose entered. She was very tall and pale, her dress was
a little dowdy. Like her father and Millicent, she carried her head
forward and had a tendency to look downwards, and her spine seemed
flaccid. Ethel was beautiful, or about to be beautiful; Millicent was
pretty; Rose plain. Rose was deficient in style. She despised style, and
regarded her sisters as frivolous ninnies and gadabouts. She was the
serious member of the family, and for two years had been studying for
the Matriculation of London University.
'Late again!' said her father. 'I shall stop all this exam work.'
Rose said nothing, but looked resentful.
When the hot dishes had been partaken of, Bessie was dismissed, and
Leonora waited for the bursting of the storm. It was Millicent who
drew it down.
'I think I shall go down to Burgesses, after all, mamma. It's quite light,'
she said with audacious pertness.

Her father looked at her.
'What were you doing this afternoon, Milly?'
'I went out for a walk, pa.'
'Who with?'
'No one.'
'Didn't I see you on the canal-side with young Ryley?'
'Yes, father. He was going back to the works after dinner, and he just
happened to overtake me.'
Milly and Ethel exchanged a swift glance.
'Happened to overtake you! I saw you as I was driving past, over the
canal bridge. You little thought that I saw you.'
'Well, father, I couldn't help him overtaking me. Besides----'
'Besides!' he took her up. 'You had your hand on his shoulder. How do
you explain that?'
Millicent was silent.
'I'm ashamed of you, regularly ashamed ... You with your hand on his
shoulder in full sight of the works! And on your mother's birthday too!'
Leonora involuntarily stirred. For more than twenty years it had been
his custom to give her a kiss and a ten-pound note before breakfast on
her birthday, but this year he had so far made no mention whatever of
the anniversary.
'I'm going to put my foot down,' he continued with grieved majesty. 'I
don't want to, but you force me to it. I'll have no goings-on with Fred
Ryley. Understand that. And I'll have no more idling about. You
girls--at least you two--are bone-idle. Ethel shall begin to go to the

works next Monday. I want a clerk. And you, Milly, must take up the
housekeeping. Mother, you'll see to that.'
Leonora reflected that whereas Ethel showed a marked gift for
housekeeping, Milly was instinctively averse to everything merely
domestic. But with her acquired fatalism she accepted the ukase.
'You understand,' said John to his pert youngest.
'Yes, papa.'
'No more carrying-on with Fred Ryley--or any one else.'
'No, papa.'
'I've got quite enough to worry me without being bothered by you girls.'
Rose left the table, consciously innocent both of sloth and of light
behaviour.
'What are you going to do now, Rose?' He could not let her off
scot-free.
'Read my chemistry, father.'
'You'll do no such thing.'
'I must, if I'm to pass at