ht was about them. They went to
the bridge and looked down the Serpentine, with the little lights of
Paddington yellow and remote. They stood there, dim little figures and
very close together. They whispered and became silent.
Presently it seemed that something passed and Lewisham began talking
in his magnificent vein. He likened the Serpentine to Life, and found
Meaning in the dark banks of Kensington Gardens and the remote bright
lights. "The long struggle," he said, "and the lights at the
end,"--though he really did not know what he meant by the lights at
the end. Neither did Ethel, though the emotion was indisputable. "We
are Fighting the World," he said, finding great satisfaction in the
thought. "All the world is against us--and we are fighting it all."
"We will not be beaten," said Ethel.
"How could we be beaten--together?" said Lewisham. "For you I would
fight a dozen worlds."
It seemed a very sweet and noble thing to them under the sympathetic
moonlight, almost indeed too easy for their courage, to be merely
fighting the world.
* * * * *
"You 'aven't bin married ver' long," said Madam Gadow with an
insinuating smile, when she readmitted Ethel on Monday morning after
Lewisham had been swallowed up by the Schools.
"No, I haven't _very_ long," admitted Ethel.
"You are ver' 'appy," said Madam Gadow, and sighed.
"_I_ was ver' 'appy," said Madam Gadow.
CHAPTER XXIII.
MR. CHAFFERY AT HOME.
The golden mists of delight lifted a little on Monday, when Mr. and
Mrs. G.E. Lewisham went to call on his mother-in-law and
Mr. Chaffery. Mrs. Lewisham went in evident apprehension, but clouds
of glory still hung about Lewisham's head, and his manner was heroic.
He wore a cotton shirt and linen collar, and a very nice black satin
tie that Mrs. Lewisham had bought on her own responsibility during the
day. She naturally wanted him to look all right.
Mrs. Chaffery appeared in the half light of the passage as the top of
a grimy cap over Ethel's shoulder and two black sleeves about her
neck. She emerged as a small, middle-aged woman, with a thin little
nose between silver-rimmed spectacles, a weak mouth and perplexed
eyes, a queer little dust-lined woman with the oddest resemblance to
Ethel in her face. She was trembling visibly with nervous agitation.
She hesitated, peering, and then kissed Mr. Lewisham effusively. "And
this is Mr. Lewisham!" she said as she did so.
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