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Cross, Victoria, 1868-1952

"To-morrow?"

I
believe she would walk to the block rather than let a word pass her
lips in my hearing an hour before our marriage that in twenty-four
hours afterwards might be a common phrase between us. You may call
it modesty and charming, if you like. All I can say is, there are
limits to its charm."
The approach of morning was distinct now. A grey light hung in a
faint misty veil over the Green Park and top of Piccadilly. As it
fell from the cloudy, neutral-tinted sky, it showed one solitary
figure, a woman with a trailing skirt and battered hat, passing Hyde
Park corner.
In the waste of deserted street and roadway, glimmering in the dull,
grey light, that one dishevelled black figure reminded one of the
remnant of some wrecked vessel, drifting at dawn along a sullen
coast. She drifted somewhat faster up to us as we came to the corner
and touched Dick, who was next to the road, on the arm. He shook her
hand off without speaking.
"Have you any money with you, Dick?" I asked.
"Yes; but I am not going to give any to her," he answered.
I would have given the woman some, but I had none. I had left it
behind when I changed my clothes for dinner. She heard Dick's answer
to me plainly, and it exasperated her. All the natural, florid,
unstudied eloquence of the lower orders was at her command, and
well-turned periods of perfect abuse and neat incisive remarks upon
our characters, our persons and attributes generally, rippled in a
smooth, unbroken stream from her lips as she followed us.


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