Sally Bishop | Page 8

many another girl in her
position be delighted with the experience? That thought warmed her to
a greater appreciation of the situation.
But why had he been waiting outside the door of the office? Why had
he followed her? How had he known that she was employed in the
exacting services of Bonsfield & Co.? All these questions gyrated
wildly in her mind, swept about, confused at finding no plausible
answers to their importunate demands.
Then, lastly, who was he? There are men who suggest to you that they
must be somebody; there is an air of distinction about them that glosses
the cheapest coat and creases the poorest pair of trousers. If they are
poorly dressed, then it must be that they are masquerading; if their
clothes are well-fitting, then it is only what you would have expected. It
makes for no definite confirmation of your opinion.
Sally was made conscious of this impression, and, in its way, that
thrilled her too. You have little chance with a woman in this world if
you are a nonentity. Personality inevitably wins its way, and, in that she
was susceptible to the personality of the man beside her, Sally forgot
the circumstances of their acquaintance, forgot to review them with that
same impartial judgment which she would have exercised had the man
conveyed to her mind a more commonplace impression.
Stung then with curiosity to know how he had heard of her, how he had
come to be waiting in King Street until she should leave off her work,

or whether, as she suspected, it were only that he had been attracted to
her as she passed by, she gave herself away with unconscious
ingenuousness.
"Why were you waiting in King Street?" she asked suddenly.
The words hurried, tumbling in a confusion of self-consciousness from
her lips.
"Oh--you saw me there?" said he.
"Yes."
"You saw me when you passed?"
"Yes."
"Did you know I was walking behind you all the way to Piccadilly
Circus?"
"N--no--how should I?"
"You looked back once or twice."
"Did I?"
"Why do you want to know why I was waiting in King Street?"
"I don't want to know particularly."
"Shall I tell you?"
"Yes."
"I had seen you through the window--working at that ghastly
typewriter--stood there for more than a quarter of an hour--down the
street--waiting till you got sick of it. Then I was going to ask you to
come and have tea with me--dinner if you'd liked. I wanted some one to
talk to; I was going back to my rooms. When they're empty, a man's

rooms can be the most godless--"
She stood up abruptly, striking her hat against the roof of the umbrella.
"Will you let me out, please?"
"But you told me you were going to Hammersmith. This is only
Knightsbridge."
"I'm getting down here."
He stood up. "I've offended you," he said quietly.
"Did you imagine you would not?"
"No--I suppose I didn't--but I wasn't going to let that stop me from
making your acquaintance. There's nothing to be sorry about. You were
sick of things--I could see that through the window--so was I. Mayn't
two human beings, who are sick of things, find something in common?
You're really going?"
"Yes."
She curled her lip with contempt; but it had a smile behind it which he
could not see.
"Shan't we see each other again?"
"Certainly not!"
She stood at the top of the steps waiting for the 'bus to stop. He looked
up into her face and held her eyes.
"Then I apologize," he said willingly. "And don't be offended at what
I'm going to say now."
She put her foot down on to the first step. "What is it?"
"I'll bet you ten pounds we don't. That is to say you win ten pounds if

we do."
She laughed contemptuously in a breath and hurried down the steps.
CHAPTER III
It is all very well to say that there have been movements towards the
enfranchisement of women since before the Roman era; it is all very
well to point out that these movements are periodical, almost as
inevitable as the volcanic eruptions that belch out their volumes of
running fire and die down again into peaceful submission: but when the
whole vital cause is altered, when the intrinsic motive in the entrails of
that vast crater is changed, it is no wise policy to say, "It will pass
over--another two or three years and women will find, as they have
always found before, that it is better to sit still and let others do the
work."
It is the problem of population that is being worked out now, not the
mere spontaneous and ephemeral struggle of a few dominating
personalities.
It is well-nigh ludicrous to think that Sally Bishop--quiet, virtuous,