The Malefactor

  JULIET GAINS EXPERIENCE

  "Of course," Juliet said, "after Tredowen it seems very small, almostpoky, but it isn't, really, and Tredowen was not for me all my days. Itwas quite time I got used to something else."

  Wingrave looked around him with expressionless face. It was a tinyroom, high up on the fifth floor of a block of flats, prettily butinexpensively furnished. Juliet herself, tall and slim, with all thefire of youth and perfect health on her young face, was obviouslycontented.

  "And your work?" he asked.

  She made a little grimace.

  "I have a good deal to unlearn," she said, "but Mr. Pleydell is verykind and encouraging."

  "You will go down to Cornwall for the hot weather, I hope?" he said."London is unbearable in August."

  "The class are going for a sketching tour to Normandy," she said,"and Mr. Pleydell thought that I might like to join them. It is veryinexpensive, and I should be able to go on with my work all the time."

  He nodded thoughtfully.

  "I hear," he said, "that you have met Mr. Aynesworth again."

  "Wasn't it delightful?" she exclaimed. "He is quite an old friend of Mr.Pleydell. I was so glad to see him."

  "I suppose," he remarked, "you are a little lonely sometimes?"

  "Sometimes," she admitted. "But I sha'n't be when I get to know thegirls in the class a little better."

  "I have some friends," he said thoughtfully, "women, of course, whowould come and see you with pleasure. And yet," he added, "I am not surethat you would not be better off without knowing them."

  "They are fashionable ladies, perhaps?" she said simply.

  He nodded.

  "They belong to the Juggernaut here which is called society. They wouldprobably try to draw you a little way into its meshes. I think, yes, Iam sure," he added, looking at her, "that you are better off outside."

  "And I am quite sure of it," she answered laughing. "I haven't theclothes or the time or the inclination for that sort of thing. Besides,I am going to be much too happy ever to be lonely."

  "I myself," he said, "am not an impressionable person. But they tell methat most people, especially of your age, find London a terribly lonelyplace."

  "I can understand that," she answered, "unless they really had somethingdefinite to do. I have felt a little of that myself. I think Londonfrightens me a little. It is so different from the country, and there isa great deal that is difficult to understand."

  "For instance?"

  "The great number of poor people who find it so hard to live," sheanswered. "Some of the small houses round here are awful, andMr. Malcolm--he is the vicar of the church here, and he calledyesterday--tells me that they are nothing like so bad as in someother parts of London. And then you take a bus, it is such a shortdistance--and the shops are full of wonderful things at such fabulousprices, and the carriages and houses are so lovely, and people seem tobe showering money right and left everywhere."

  "It is the same in all large cities," he answered, "more or less.There must always be rich and poor, when a great community are herdedtogether. As a rule, the extreme poor are a worthless lot."

  "There must be some of them, though," she answered, "who deserve tohave a better time. Of course, I have never been outside Tredowen, whereeveryone was contented and happy in their way, and it seems terrible tome just at first. I can't bear to think that everyone hasn't at least achance of happiness."

  "You are too young," he said, "to bother your head about these thingsyet. Wait until you have gathered in a little philosophy with the years.Then you will understand how helpless you are to alter by ever so littlethe existing state of things, and it will trouble you less."

  "I," she answered, "may, of course, be helpless, but what about thosepeople who have huge fortunes, and still do nothing?"

  "Why should they?" he answered coldly. "This is a world for individualeffort. No man is strong enough to carry even a single one of hisfellows upon his shoulders. Charity is the most illogical and perniciousof all weaknesses."

  "Now you are laughing at me," she declared. "I mean men like thatMr. Wingrave, the American who has come to England to spend all hismillions. I have just been reading about him," she added, pointing to anillustrated paper on the table. "They say that his income is too vastto be put into figures which would sound reasonable; that he has estatesand shooting properties, and a yacht which he has never yet evenseen. And yet he will not give one penny away. He gives nothing to thehospitals, nothing to the poor. He spends his money on himself, andhimself alone!"

  Wingrave smiled grimly.

  "I am not prepared to defend my namesake," he said; "but every man has aright to do what he likes with his own, hasn't he? And as for hospitals,Mr. Wingrave probably thinks, like a good many more, that they should bestate endowed. People could make use of them, then, without loss of selfrespect."

  She shook her head a little doubtfully.

  "I can't argue about it yet," she said, "because I haven't thoughtabout it long enough. But I know if I had all the money this man has,I couldn't be happy to spend thousands and thousands upon myself whilethere were people almost starving in the same city."

  "You are a sentimentalist, you see," he remarked, "and you have notstudied the laws on which society is based. Tell me, how does Mrs.Tresfarwin like London?"

  Juliet laughed merrily.

  "Isn't it amusing?" she declared. "She loves it! She grumbles at themilk, and we have the butter from Tredowen. Everything else she findsperfection. She doesn't even mind the five flights of stone steps."

  "Social problems," Wingrave remarked, "do not trouble her."

  "Not in the least," Juliet declared. "She spends all her pennies onbeggars and omnibus rides, and she is perfectly happy."

  Wingrave rose to go in a few minutes. Juliet walked with him to thedoor.

  "I am going to be really hospitable," she declared. "I am going to walkwith you to the street."

  "All down those five flights?" he exclaimed.

  "Every one of them!"

  They commenced the descent.

  "There is something about a flat," she declared, "which makes onehorribly curious about one's neighbors--especially if one has never hadany. All these closed doors may hide no end of interesting people, andI have never seen a soul go in or out. How did you like all thisclimbing?"

  "I'm afraid I didn't appreciate it," he admitted.

  "Perhaps you won't come to see me again, then?" she asked. "I hope youwill."

  "I will come," he said a little stiffly, "with pleasure!"

  They were on the ground floor, and Juliet opened the door. Wingrave'smotor was outside, and the man touched his hat. She gave a littlebreathless cry.

  "It isn't yours?" she exclaimed.

  "Certainly," he answered. "Do you want to come and look at it?"

  "Rather!" she exclaimed. "I have never seen one close to in my life."

  He hesitated.

  "I'll take you a little way, if you like," he said.

  Her cheeks were pink with excitement.

  "If I like! And I've never been in one before! I'll fly up for my hat. Isha'n't be a moment."

  She was already halfway up the first flight of stairs, with a whirl ofskirts and flying feet. Wingrave lit a cigarette and stood for a momentthoughtfully upon the pavement. Then he shrugged his shoulders. His facehad grown a little harder.

  "She must take her chances," he muttered. "No one knows her. Nobody islikely to find out who she is."

  She was down again in less time than seemed possible. Her cheeks wereflushed and her eyes bright with excitement. Wingrave took the wheelhimself, and she sat up by his side. They glided off almost noiselessly.

  "We will go up to the Park," he said. "It is just the time to see thepeople."

  "Anywhere!" she exclaimed. "This is too lovely!"

  They passed from Battersea northwards into Piccadilly, and down into thePark. Juliet was too excited to talk; Wingrave had enough to do to drivethe car. They passed plenty
of people who bowed, and many who glancedwith wondering admiration at the beautiful girl who sat by Wingrave'sside. Lady Ruth, who drive by quickly in a barouche, almost rose fromher seat; the Marchioness, whose victoria they passed, had time to waveher hand and flash a quick, searching glance at Juliet, who returnedit with her dark eyes filled with admiration. The Marchioness smiled toherself a little sadly as the car shot away ahead.

  "If one asked," she murmured to herself, "he would try to persuade onethat it was another victim."