"Just think of the things and the people we
do respect--in your delightful sense. If we could only see through
their skins; though of course they're far too thick. Anyhow, if you
won't go now, you will later on, and meantime," he added, "you throw me
on my own resources."
The consequence of Sybil's refusal was that Jimmy passed the end of
Golfney Place several times a day and presently met with a reward. It
was about half-past eleven one sunny morning that he saw Bridget come
forth from her door, and without a glance in his direction, turn
towards the further end of the street. Quickening his pace, he at once
set out in pursuit. Walking behind her, he saw the light on her
chestnut-coloured hair, saw that she knew (rare accomplishment) how to
walk, and a few moments later, still a foot or two in the rear, he
exclaimed--
"Good-morning, Miss Rosser."
"Oh, good-morning, Mr. Clynesworth," she answered, without stopping.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To my dressmaker's in Dover Street!"
"May I go with you----"
"That sounds," cried Bridget gaily, "like the beginning of a nursery
rhyme.
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