And she won't marry me."
"Surely she must love you, at least a little, if you care so much for
her," Stephen tried to console his friend.
"Oh, she does, a lot," replied Nevill with infinite satisfaction. "But,
you see--well, you see, her family wasn't up to much from a social point
of view--such rot! The mother came out from Paris to be a nursery
governess, when she was quite young, but she was too pretty for that
position. She had various but virtuous adventures, and married a
non-com. in the Chasseurs d'Afrique, who chucked the army for her. The
two kept a little hotel. Then the husband died, while the girls were
children. The mother gave up the hotel and took in sewing. Everybody was
interested in the family, they were so clever and exceptional, and
people helped in the girls' education. When their mother became an
invalid, the two contrived to keep her and themselves, though Jeanne was
only eighteen then, and Josette, my girl, fifteen. She's been dead now
for some years--the mother. Josette is nearly twenty-four. Do you see
why she won't marry me? I'm hanged if I do."
"I can see what her feeling is," Stephen said. "She must be a ripping
girl."
"I should say she is!--though as obstinate as the devil. Sometimes I
could shake her and box her ears. I haven't seen her for months now.
She wouldn't like me to go to Tlemcen--unless I had a friend with me,
and a good excuse. I didn't know it could hurt so much to be in love,
though I was in once before, and it hurt too, rather.
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