People Like That | Page 7

I
told her. For two years longer I lived with her, years for her of practical
invalidism, and for me of opportunity to do for her what she had never
permitted me to do before. Two weeks after Kitty's marriage she died
suddenly, and at times I still shiver with the cold clamminess that came
over me as I stood by her in her last sleep and realized my aloneness in
the world. My parents had died in my early childhood. I had no
brothers or sisters, no near relatives, save an uncle who lived abroad
and some cousins here in town. Mr. Chesmond was very kind, but I
could not continue to accept what he had willingly given his wife's
adopted child, and Kitty no longer needed me. It is a fearful feeling,
this sense of belonging to no one, of having no one belonging to you.
Lest it overwhelm me, I went at once to work upon the house in
Scarborough Square left me by Aunt Matilda, together with an annuity
of a thousand dollars. Already it means much to me. For a while, at
least, it is a haven, a shelter, a home. What it may prove--
I have been thinking much to-day of Aunt Matilda. Perhaps it is
because Selwyn was here last night. She was afraid I would marry him.

CHAPTER IV
I did not tell Selwyn I was coming to Scarborough Square to live. I told
no one. The day after I reached here I sent him a note, giving him my
new address.
His answer was short and stiff. He was leaving town on a business trip
and would see me on his return, he wrote, and as I read what was not

written between what was I was glad he was going away. It would give
him time to cool off. I am beyond Selwyn's comprehension. We should
not be friends, we are so apart in many matters. But compatible people
must find life dull. Selwyn and I are never dull.
When he first called I was out, and last night he called again. As Mrs.
Mundy, with his coat and hat, closed the door behind her, he held out
his hand.
"Well?" He looked at me, but in his eyes was no smiling.
"Well?" I shook hands and smiled.
For a half-moment we said nothing, and frowningly he turned away.
Always he radiated the security that comes of fixed position, a past
without challenge, a future provided for; but tonight I was conscious
only of the quiet excellence of his clothes, his physical well-being, the
unescapableness of his eyes, and the cut of his chin. He is a most
determined person. So am I--which perhaps accounts for our rather
stormy friendship.
"Don't you think I have a very nice home?" I took my seat in a corner
of the big chintz-covered sofa in front of the fire and close to the long
table with its lighted lamp and books and magazines, and motioned him
to sit down. "I'm entirely fixed. I hope you like this room. I love it. I've
never had one of my very own before."
"It's very pretty."
Selwyn took his seat without looking around. He did not know whether
it was pretty or not. He was not at all interested in the room.
For a moment he looked at me with eyes narrowed and his forehead
ridged in tiny, perpendicular folds. Presently he leaned forward, his
hands between his knees and fingers interlocked.
"How long do you propose to stay down here?" he asked.

"I really do not know. I thought you were going to congratulate me
upon living the life I want to live."
"I do. Until you get this thing out of your system--"
"What thing?" I, too, leaned forward. The tone of his voice made
something in me flare. "What thing?" I repeated.
Selwyn's shoulders shrugged slightly. He sat up, then leaned back, his
hands in his pockets. "Why discuss it? You've long wanted to do
something of this sort. Until it was done you would never be content.
What you want to do, I doubt if you know yourself. Are you slumming?
Uplifting?"
"I am not. I'm neither a slummer nor an uplifter. A slummer helps. I'm
just looking on." I threw the cushion behind me to the other end of the
sofa. "I thought it might be interesting to see for myself some of the
causes which produce conditions. I've read a good deal, but one doesn't
exactly sense things by reading. I want to see."
"And after you see?" Selwyn made an impatient movement with his
hand. "A thousand years from now humanity may get results from
scientific management in social organization, but most of your
present-day methods are about as practical