Jude the Obsure

The barmaid attending to this compartment was invisible to Jude's

direct glance, though a reflection of her back in the glass behind

her was occasionally caught by his eyes. He had only observed this

listlessly, when she turned her face for a moment to the glass to set

her hair tidy. Then he was amazed to discover that the face was

Arabella's.

If she had come on to his compartment she would have seen him.

But she did not, this being presided over by the maiden on the other

side. Abby was in a black gown, with white linen cuffs and a broad

white collar, and her figure, more developed than formerly, was

accentuated by a bunch of daffodils that she wore on her left bosom.

In the compartment she served stood an electro-plated fountain of

water over a spirit-lamp, whose blue flame sent a steam from the top,

all this being visible to him only in the mirror behind her; which

also reflected the faces of the men she was attending to--one of them

a handsome, dissipated young fellow, possibly an undergraduate, who

had been relating to her an experience of some humorous sort.

"Oh, Mr. Cockman, now! How can you tell such a tale to me in my

innocence!" she cried gaily. "Mr. Cockman, what do you use to make

your moustache curl so beautiful?" As the young man was clean shaven

the retort provoked a laugh at his expense.

"Come!" said he, "I'll have a curacao; and a light, please."

She served the liqueur from one of the lovely bottles and striking

a match held it to his cigarette with ministering archness while he

whiffed.

"Well, have you heard from your husband lately, my dear?" he asked.

"Not a sound," said she.

"Where is he?"

"I left him in Australia; and I suppose he's there still."

Jude's eyes grew rounder.

"What made you part from him?"

"Don't you ask questions, and you won't hear lies."

"Come then, give me my change, which you've been keeping from me for

the last quarter of an hour; and I'll romantically vanish up the

street of this picturesque city."

She handed the change over the counter, in taking which he caught her

fingers and held them. There was a slight struggle and titter, and

he bade her good-bye and left.

Jude had looked on with the eye of a dazed philosopher. It was

extraordinary how far removed from his life Arabella now seemed to

be. He could not realize their nominal closeness. And, this being

the case, in his present frame of mind he was indifferent to the fact

that Arabella was his wife indeed.