The
one thing it couldn't provide against was the imbecility of the old
aunt, who still had the girls in her care.
"A couple of years went by, and Lilian became a teacher in the
school she had attended. Do you know anything about Bristol and the
neighbourhood? It seems that the people there are in the habit of
going to a place called Weston-super-Mare--excursion steamers, and
so on. Well, the girls and their aunt went to spend a day at Weston,
and on the boat they somehow made acquaintance with a young man
named Northway. That means, of course, he made up to them, and the
aunt was idiot enough to let him keep talking. He stuck by them all
day, and accompanied them back to Bristol.--Pah! it sickens me to
tell the story!"
He took the glass to drink, but it slipped from his nervous fingers
and crashed on the ground.
"Never mind; let it be there. I have had whisky enough. This damned
fellow Northway soon called upon them, and was allowed to come as
often as he liked. He was a clerk in a commercial house--gave
references which were found to be satisfactory enough, a great
talker, and of course a consummate liar. His special interest was
the condition of the lower classes; he made speeches here and there,
went slumming, called himself a Christian Socialist. This kind of
thing was no doubt attractive to Lilian--you know enough of her to
understand that.
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