For a while, let us leave Mr. Hoopdriver wandering through the dim streets of Midhurst and return to the railway bridge between Milford and Haslemere.
The girl was eighteen.
She had dark hair, delicate features, bright eyes, and a warm complexion that quickly flushed with emotion. Her eyes were still shining with tears.
The man beside her was about thirty-three or thirty-four. He was fair-haired, with pale blue eyes, a long nose hanging above a sandy moustache, and a large, oddly shaped head.
He stood with his feet apart and one hand resting on his hip. His posture suggested both defiance and aggression.
They watched until Hoopdriver disappeared from sight.
His unexpected arrival had interrupted the girl’s tears. Now she stood with her face turned away from the man, stubbornly refusing to speak first.
He slowly pulled at his moustache.
“Your behavior is making you look suspicious,” he said at last.
She spun around.
Her eyes flashed with anger, her cheeks burned, and her hands tightened into fists.
“You are an unbelievable cad,” she said.
She nearly choked on the words, stamped her foot, and stood there breathing hard.
“An unbelievable cad?” he repeated calmly. “My dear girl, perhaps I am one. Who wouldn’t be, given the chance with you?”
“‘Dear girl’?”
She stared at him.
“How dare you speak to me like that? You—”
“I would do anything for you.”
“Oh!”
For a moment neither spoke.
She looked directly into his face. Her eyes were filled with anger and contempt.
He seemed slightly uncomfortable, but quickly recovered his usual cynical expression and stroked his moustache.
“Let’s be reasonable,” he said.
“Reasonable?”
She gave a bitter laugh.
“That’s what people call everything that is selfish, cowardly, and dirty.”
“You’ve always liked making dramatic generalizations. But let’s stick to the facts, shall we?”
She impatiently motioned for him to continue.
“All right,” he said. “You’ve run away.”
“I left my home,” she corrected firmly.
“I left because I couldn’t stand living there anymore. Because of that woman—”
“Yes, yes. But the important point is that you’ve run away with me.”
“You came with me!”
Her voice rose.
“You pretended to be my friend. You said you would help me earn a living by writing. You were the one who said there was nothing wrong with a man and a woman being friends. And now you dare—”
“Really, Jessie. This innocent little act of yours—”
“I’m going back.”
She stepped toward him.
“And I won’t let you stop me.”
“Just a moment.”
He raised a hand.
“I always thought my young pupil was reasonably intelligent. But you don’t understand everything yet. Listen to me.”
“Haven’t I listened enough?”
Her eyes filled with anger again.
“All you’ve done is insult me. You were the one who talked about friendship. You hardly even dared suggest that you wanted anything more.”
“But you understood the hints.”
He smiled coldly.
“You knew exactly what I wanted. And you didn’t mind.”
“I did mind.”
“No, you didn’t. You enjoyed it.”
She stared at him.
“You enjoyed knowing that I loved you but couldn’t say it openly. That was part of the game for you.”
“You’ve said this before. Do you think that excuses what you’ve done?”
“No. There’s more.”
He paused.
“I decided to make things more complicated. So when you told me about this trip, I encouraged you to go. I even invented a sister who supposedly lived in Midhurst.”
He looked directly at her.
“I don’t have a sister.”
Jessie frowned.
“Then why?”
“To put you in a compromising position.”
She suddenly went still.
That was a new way of looking at it.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
Then she lifted her chin defiantly.
“Well, I’m hardly ruined.”
She gave a bitter smile.
“I’ve simply made a fool of myself.”
“My dear girl, you’re not even eighteen yet.”
His voice became almost patronizing.
“You know very little about the world. Much less than you think. Before you write all those novels we’ve talked about, you’ll have to learn a great deal more.”
He hesitated.
“There is something else.”
She waited.
“At breakfast, when that man called you ‘Ma’am,’ you blushed.”
She looked away.
“You thought he had made a silly mistake. You didn’t correct him because he was young and nervous.”
He paused.
“And because the idea of being called my wife made you uncomfortable.”
Jessie’s face tightened.
“But you didn’t want to face what it meant.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I gave your name as Mrs. Beaumont.”
She stared at him.
“Mrs. Beaumont?”
“Yes.”
He pulled at his moustache, watching her reaction.
“I told people you were my wife.”
Jessie said nothing for a long moment.
Then she spoke quietly.
“I’m learning very quickly.”
He sensed that she was becoming vulnerable and decided to press his advantage.
“Jessie, I know what I’ve done is shameful. I know it was dishonest.”
His voice softened.
“But do you really think I went through all this trouble, all this lying and planning, for any other reason than—”
“I’m going home,” she interrupted.
He stopped.
“To your stepmother?”
Jessie flinched.
“Think about what she could say to you now.”
“I don’t care.”
“I think you do.”
She looked away.
“I’m leaving you anyway.”
“And where will you go?”
“Somewhere I can earn my own living.”
Her voice became firmer.
“I want to be free. I want to live my own life without having to follow all these stupid social rules.”
“My dear girl, let’s be practical.”
She glared at him.
“You have no money. You have no job. You have no credit. You can’t simply walk into a town and expect someone to take care of you.”
He paused.
“You have two choices. Go back to your stepmother, or trust me.”
“How can I possibly trust you?”
“Then go back to her.”
He let the words hang between them.
After a moment, his expression changed.
“Jessie, I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said.”
He sounded almost sincere.
“I lost control of myself. I was wrong. Forgive me.”
He stepped closer.
“I am a man. I have feelings. Sometimes I can’t control them. But I promise you, if you forgive me—”
“How can I trust you?”
“Give me a chance.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“I can promise you that—”
“At least ride with me for now,” he said.
“We’ve spent long enough standing under this miserable bridge.”
“Oh, let me think.”
She turned away and pressed a hand against her forehead.
“Think?”
He glanced at his watch.
“All right, Jessie. It’s ten o’clock.”
He paused.
“Let’s call a truce until one.”
She looked at him.
“What exactly does ‘truce’ mean?”
“It means we stop arguing until one o’clock.”
She thought about it.
Finally, she agreed.
“All right.”
They got back on their bicycles and rode away together.
For a long time, neither said a word.
The sunlight fell across the heather, and the road stretched quietly ahead.
Both of them were deeply uncomfortable.
Both were disappointed.
Jessie was pale. She was caught between fear and anger, painfully aware that she had gotten herself into a situation she did not know how to escape.
She tried to think of a way out.
But one ridiculous thought kept returning to her no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.
His head looked remarkably like a giant pale coconut.
She almost felt guilty for noticing it.
George was disappointed too.
He had imagined this whole adventure would be much more exciting.
His romantic plan of winning her over had turned out to be far less dramatic than he had expected.
Still, he told himself, this was only the beginning.
Every day she stayed with him was another day gained.
And perhaps, he thought, things were not nearly as bad as they seemed.
For the moment, that was enough consolation.