Chapter 822:

"Did you hear me?" she said, still quiet and fast, without any irritation or impatience. "I asked if that was the way to London."
"Yes," I replied, "It's like this: it leads to St. John's Wood and Regent's Park. You must forgive me for not answering you before. I am shocked by your sudden appearance on the mechanical road; and I, even now , Can't explain this."
"You don't doubt that I did something wrong, do you? I did something wrong. I had an accident-I regret being here alone so late. Why do you suspect that I did something wrong?"
She spoke with unnecessary seriousness and excitement, and then took a few steps back from my footsteps. I tried my best to assure her.
I said: "Please don’t doubt that I have doubts about your ideas, or, if I can, there is any hope other than helping you. I just want to know how you are on the road, because it seems to me to see you At that moment, I want to be free.
She turned and pointed back to where the road to London and the road to Hampstead met, there was a gap in the hedge.
She said: "I heard that you came, then I hid there to see who you are, and then took the risk. I doubted and worried about it until you passed; then I had to steal things with you, Touch you."
Steal me and touch me? Why don't you call me? It's strange to say the least.
"Can I trust you?" she asked. "Don't you think I am worse because I had an accident?" She stopped in confusion. Move the bag from one hand to the other; sighed in pain.
The loneliness and helplessness of women moved me. To assist her, the natural impulse that spared her got better judgment, prudence, and worldly wit. In this strange emergency situation, an older, wise and cold person might be called to help him.
I said: "You can trust me for any harmless purpose." "If you trouble you to explain your strange situation to me, don't think about this topic. I have no right to ask you to provide any explanation. Tell me how I will Help you; if I can, I will."
"You are very kind and nice to meet you." When she said these words, the first faint female I heard from her shivered gently. However, there were no tears in those large and careful eyes that were still staring at me. She said: "I have only been to London once before, faster and faster, and I don’t know anything about it. Can I take a plane or any form of mechanical carriage? It’s too late? I don’t know, if you can tell Where can I fly-if you only promise not to interfere with me and let me leave you, when and where should I please me-I have a friend in London who would be happy to receive me-I don't think about anything- Do you guarantee?"
She looked at the mechanical road anxiously. Her bag moved from one hand to the other again. Repeatedly said: "Do you agree?" Looking at my face, full of fear and confusion, it bothered me.
what can I do? Here, I am totally helpless to a stranger, and that stranger is a lost woman. There is no house nearby. No one passes by someone I can consult. Even if I knew how to exercise my rights, I did not give me the worldly right to control her. I track these boundaries distrustfully, and the shadows afterwards make my papers dull. I still say, what should I do?
What I did was try to get time by questioning her. "Are you sure your friends in London will receive you at this late hour?" I said.
"I'm pretty sure. Just say when and where you want me to please you, only that you won't interfere with me. Will you agree?"
When she repeated this sentence for the third time, she approached me and suddenly placed a thin hand gently and faintly on my chest. Even on that sultry night, there was a cold hand when I took it off with my hand. I remember I was still young. Remember that the hand that touched me is a woman's.
"Do you promise?"
"Yes."
One word! In every hour of the day, this familiar little word appears on everyone's lips. OMG now, I tremble when I write it.
We faced London and walked together in the first still hour of the new day-me and the woman, the woman's name, role, story, life object, the figure beside me. At that moment, it was an incomprehensible mystery to me. It's like a dream. Am i? Is this the famous flat road that people walk on Sundays during holidays? After about an hour, did I really leave the quiet, decent traditional family atmosphere of my mother's cabin? I was too confused-and unaware of the ambiguity such as self-blame-unable to talk to my strange partner for a few minutes. Her voice broke the silence between us again.
"I want to ask you something," she said suddenly. "Do you know many people in London?"
"Yes, a lot."
"People with many titles and titles?" This strange question undoubtedly aroused suspicion. I don't want to answer.
"Some," I said after a moment of silence.
"Many"-she stood down and looked at me with a smile-"There are many baronial men?"
Surprised, it was her turn to ask her again.
"why do you ask?"
"Because I hope, as far as I am concerned, there is a baron you don't know."
"Can you tell me his name?"
"I can't-I don't dare-I will forget myself when I mention it." She said loudly, almost fiercely, and squeezed her hand in the air and shook it enthusiastically. Then suddenly he took control of himself, and added a low tone: "Tell me, you know which one of them."
I couldn't refuse to be so humorous to her, I mentioned three names. The second is the name of the father of my daughter’s family; the other is the name of a bachelor who once took me on a spacecraft tour on his yacht and made sketches for him.
"Ah! You don't know him." She breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you a person of status?"
"Far away. I'm just a master painter."
It may be a bit bitter when the reply passed through my lips. She grabbed my arm with a sudden movement, which is characteristic of all her movements.
She repeated to herself: "Not a person with a title." "Thank God! I can trust him."
So far, I have worked hard to master my curiosity out of consideration for my companions. But now I am better.
"I'm afraid you have serious reasons to complain about someone with a title?" I said. "I'm afraid that your male prospective brother who doesn't want to mention my name made some serious mistakes for you? Is it the reason you came here on this strange night?"
She replied: "Don't ask me: don't let me talk about it." "I am not used to it now. I have been cruelly used and cruelly wronged. If you go fast and don't talk to me, you will be better than ever before. Be more kind. If I can, I sadly want to calm myself down."
We moved quickly again. For at least half an hour, there was no word on either side. From time to time, I stole her face because it was forbidden to inquire again. It's always the same. His lips were closed, his brows frowned, and his eyes looked forward eagerly and without expression. We arrived at the first batch of houses and closed at the new Wesleyan College, then her performance relaxed and she spoke again.
"Do you live in London?" she said.
"Yes." When I replied, I was shocked that she might have asked me for help or advice, and I should warn her about leaving home to avoid disappointment. So I added: "But tomorrow I will leave London for a while. I am going to the country."
"Where?" she asked. "North or South?"
"North-Cumberland."
"Cumberland!" She repeated the word gently. "Ah! Hope I'll go there too. I used to be happy in Cumberland."
I tried again to lift the veil hanging between this woman and me.
I said: "Maybe you were born in a beautiful lakeside country."
"No," she answered. "I was born in Hampshire; but I used to go to school in Cumberland for a while. Lake? I don't remember any lakes. I want to see Limerick Village and Limerick House again."
Now it's my turn to stop suddenly. At that time, in my state of curiosity, the occasional mention of Mr. Fairley's residence on the lips of my strange companion surprised me.
"Did you hear someone chasing us?" She asked the moment I stopped, boldly looking up at the mechanical road.
"No, no. I was just moved by the name. A few days later, I heard some Cumberlanders mention it."
"Ah! Not my people. Mrs. Fairley has passed away; her husband has passed away; this time their little girl may have been married and gone. I can't say who lives in Limerick now. If anyone stays With this name there, I only know that I love them for my wife."
She seemed to say more. But when she spoke, we saw the toll road on top of the big road. Her hand was tightly closed to my arm, and she looked anxiously at the door in front of us.
"Are the toll road people watching?" she asked.
He did not look out. No one was nearby when we passed through the gate. The sight of the gas lamp and the house seemed to bother her and make her impatient.
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