she walked a mile eastwards along oxford street before entering a teashop, in order to avoid meeting any of the girls, all of whom, except the very youngest and the very stingiest, distributed themselves among the neighbouring establishments for the absurdly insufficient snack called lunch. every place was full just after one o'clock, and crammed at one-fifteen. she asked for a whole meat pie instead of a half, for she felt quite unusually hungry. a plot! that was what it was! a plot against her, matured by miss g. in a few minutes out of milly's innuendoes written to gertie and spoken to miss g. herself. and the reason of the plot was miss g.'s spinsterish, passionate fear of a friendship between felix grig and lilian! lilian was ready to believe that miss g. had engineered the absence of both her brother and gertie so as to be free to work her will without the possibility of complications. if miss g. hated her, she hated miss g. with at least an equal fierceness--the fierceness of an unarmed victim. the injustice of the world staggered her. she thought that something ought to be done about it. even lord mackworth was gravely to blame, for not having paid his bill. still, that detail had not much importance, because miss g., deprived of one pretext, would soon have found another. after all that she, lilian, had done for the office, to be turned off at a moment's notice, and without a character--for miss g. would never give a reference, and lilian would never ask for a reference! never! nor would she nor could she approach felix grig; nor gertie either. perhaps felix grig might communicate with her. he certainly ought to do so. but then, he was very casual, forgetful and unconsciously cruel.
all the men and girls in the packed tea-shop had work behind them and work in front of them. they knew where they were; they had a function on the earth. she, lilian, had nothing, save a couple of weeks' wages and perhaps a hundred pounds in the post office savings bank. resentment against her father flickered up anew from its ashes in her heart.
how could she occupy herself after lunch? unthinkable for her to go to her lodging until the customary hour, unless she could pretend to be ill; and if she feigned illness the well-disposed slavey would be after her and would see through the trick at once, and it would be all over the house that something had happened to miss share. the afternoon was an enormous trackless expanse which had to be somehow traversed by a weary and terribly discouraged wayfarer. her father had been in the habit of conducting his family on ceremonial visits to the public art galleries. she went to the wallace collection, and saw how millionaires lived in the 'seventies, and how the unchaste and lovely ladies were dressed for whom entire populations were sacrificed in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. thence to a cinema near the marble arch, and saw how virtue infallibly wins after all.
when, after travelling countless leagues of time and ennui, she reached home she received a note from mr. pladda inviting her to the hammersmith palais de danse for the following night. mr. pladda was the star lodger in the house--a man of forty-five, legally separated from his wife but of impeccable respectability and decorum. his illusion was that he could dance rather well. mr. pladda was evidently coming on.
the next morning, which was very fine, lilian spent in hyde park, marshalling her resources. beyond her trifling capital she had none. especially she had no real friends. she had unwisely cut loose from her parents' acquaintances, and she could not run after them now that she was in misfortune. her former colleagues? out of the question! gertie might prove a friend, but gertie must begin; lilian could not begin. lord mackworth? silly idea! she still thought of lord mackworth romantically. he was an unattainable hero at about the same level as before in her mind, for while his debts had lowered him his advertised dissoluteness had mysteriously raised him. (yet in these hours and days mr. pladda himself was not more absolutely respectable and decorous, in mind and demeanour, than lilian.) she went to two cinemas in the afternoon, and, safe in the darkness of the second one, cried silently.
but with mr. pladda at the palais de danse she was admirably cheerful, and mr. pladda was exceedingly proud of his companion, who added refined manners to startling beauty. she delicately praised his dancing, whereupon he ordered lemon squashes and tomato sandwiches. at the little table she told him calmly that she was leaving her present situation and taking another.
back in her room she laughed with horrid derision. and as soon as she was in bed the clockwork mice started to run round and round in her head. a plot! a plot! what a burning shame! what a burning shame! ... a few weeks earlier she had actually been bestowing situations on pitiful applicants. now she herself had no situation and no prospect of any. she had never had to apply for a situation. she had not been educated to applying for situations. she could not imagine herself ever applying for a situation. she had not the least idea how to begin to try to get a situation. she passed the greater part of sunday in bed, and in the evening went to church and felt serious and good.
on monday morning she visited the post office and filled up a withdrawal form for forty pounds. she had had a notion of becoming a companion to a rich lady, or private secretary to a member of parliament. she would advertise. good clothes, worn as she could wear them, would help her. (she could not face another situation in an office. no, she couldn't.) the notion of a simpleton, of course! but she was still a simpleton. the notion, however, was in reality only a pretext for obtaining some good clothes. all her life she had desired more than anything a smart dress. there was never a moment in her life when she was less entitled to indulge herself; but she felt desperate. she was taking to clothes as some take to brandy. on the wednesday she received the money: a colossal, a marvellous sum. she ran off with it and nervously entered a big shop in wigmore street; the shop was a wise choice on her part, for it combined smartness with a discreet and characteristic englishness. impossible to have the dangerous air of an adventuress in a frock bought at that shop!
the next few days were spent in exactly fitting and adapting the purchases to her body. she had expended the forty pounds and drawn out eight more. through the medium of the slavey she borrowed a mirror, and fixed it at an angle with her own so that she could see her back. she was so interested and absorbed that she now and then neglected to feel unhappy and persecuted. she neglected also to draw up an advertisement, postponing that difficult matter until the clothes should be finished. but the house gathered that miss share had got her new situation. one afternoon, early, returning home after a search for white elastic in hammersmith, she saw mr. grig coming away from the house. she stood still, transfixed; she flushed hotly, and descried a beneficent and just god reigning in heaven. she knew she was saved; and the revulsion in her was nearly overwhelming. a miracle! and yet--not a miracle at all; for mr. grig was bound by every consideration of honour and decency to get into communication with her sooner or later. her doubts of his integrity had been inexcusable.
"i've just left a note for you," he said, affecting carelessness. "i brought it down myself because i couldn't remember whether your number was 56 or 65, and i had to inquire. moreover, it's urgent. i want to talk to you. will you dine with me to-night at the devonshire restaurant, jermyn street? eight o'clock. i shan't be able to dress, so you could wear a hat. yes or no?..." he was gone again in a moment.
lilian literally ran upstairs to her room in order to be alone with her ecstatic happiness. she hugged it, kissed it, smothered it; then read the wonderful note three times, and reviewed all her new clothes.
