David Herbert Lawrence

off into her hurried laugh, partly at herself, partly at Arthur,

partly at Albert, partly at Miss Pinnegar.

"Oh, well, if you're so sure--" said Miss Pinnegar rather bitingly.

"I _am_ quite sure--" said Alvina. "I'm quite certain."

"Cock-sure people are often most mistaken," said Miss Pinnegar.

"I'd rather have my own mistakes than somebody else's rights," said

Alvina.

"Then don't expect anybody to pay for your mistakes," said Miss

Pinnegar.

"It would be all the same if I did," said Alvina.

When she lay in bed, she stared at the light of the street-lamp on

the wall. She was thinking busily: but heaven knows what she was

thinking. She had sharpened the edge of her temper. She was waiting

till tomorrow. She was waiting till she saw Albert Witham. She

wanted to finish off with him. She was keen to cut clean through any

correspondence with him. She stared for many hours at the light of

the street-lamp, and there was a narrowed look in her eyes.

The next day she did not go to Morning Service, but stayed at home

to cook the dinner. In the evening she sat in her place in the

choir. In the Withams' pew sat Lottie and Albert--no Arthur. Albert

kept glancing up. Alvina could not bear the sight of him--she simply

could not bear the sight of him. Yet in her low, sweet voice she

sang the alto to the hymns, right to the vesper:

"Lord keep us safe this night

Secure from all our fears,

May angels guard us while we sleep

Till morning light appears--"

As she sang her alto, and as the soft and emotional harmony of the

vesper swelled luxuriously through the chapel, she was peeping over

her folded hands at Lottie's hat. She could not bear Lottie's hats.

There was something aggressive and vulgar about them. And she simply

detested the look of the back of Albert's head, as he too stooped to

the vesper prayer. It looked mean and rather common. She remembered

Arthur had the same look, bending to prayer. There!--why had she not

seen it before! That petty, vulgar little look! How could she have

thought twice of Arthur. She had made a fool of herself, as usual.

Him and his little leg. She grimaced round the chapel, waiting for

people to bob up their heads and take their departure.

At the gate Albert was waiting for her. He came forward lifting his

hat with a smiling and familiar "Good evening!"

"Good evening," she murmured.

"It's ages since I've seen you," he said. "And I've looked out for

you everywhere."

It was raining a little. She put up her umbrella.

"You'll take a little stroll. The rain isn't much," he said.

"No, thank you," she said. "I must go home."

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