Читать книгу The Doomington Wanderer - Louis Golding - Страница 19

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The motives and emotions of Mary Jane Spender are worthy of study in this matter of Tom Molyneux, the prize-fighter. It is probable that they were bound up to some considerable extent with her recent engagement to marry that same Winfold Butcher of whom we have heard—his name was Bert Dalrymple. For one reason or another, this Dalrymple had decided it would be better for his peace of mind if he did not marry Mary Jane Spender. (It is to be presumed she had been about as loyal to his present image as she had been to the absent image of Sailor Joe Mason, on whose behalf Tom Molyneux had shown himself so false an ambassador.)

The Dalrymple débâcle was a matter of recent history. The apparition of Tom Molyneux gave the young lady an opportunity for a sweeter and swifter revenge than she had contemplated; not on Dalrymple alone, but on the whole village, which had of late taken to the habit of using quite harsh language regarding her.

As a male man, Molyneux was portentous; as a prize-fighter, even more than that. It was gratifying that he could knock down her recent fiancé with a push of the shoulder, half Dalrymple’s size though he was.

And he had money in his pockets, and he was very free with it, too. And his manners were impeccable, never taking any liberties. And it was rather flattering to know you had a large hulking nigger, a world-beater, tied round your little finger by a length of pale blue ribbon.

And the other girls could simmer and spit and lift their hands in horror, but she knew they were wasting away with jealousy, visibly, hour by hour.

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Molyneux. I will walk with you in the meadows. It is a fine evening, is it not?”