Conrad in Quest of His Youth: An Extravagance of TemperamentMerrick, Leonard
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Conrad in Quest of His Youth: An Extravagance of Temperament
Merrick, Leonard
Theater -- Great Britain -- Fiction
"That's all bosh. But you don't come in with the rest--I want to do
more than that for you. Treat me as a pal. You're on the rocks, and
I'm not; I've been there, and I know what it means. Let me give you a
hundred to set you right."
"You want to give me a hundred pounds?" She threw back her astonished
face at him--she was all white throat and eyes. "D' ye like me so
much?"
"Damnably!" said Conrad.
The music had stopped, and now the bandsmen came hurrying past them.
They stood looking shoreward, in a pause. On the dusk of the Parade
the chain of electric globes quivered into light.
"It's rather rough on you," she murmured. "Isn't it? I've always
drawn the line. It's no good."
"I didn't think it was. I shouldn't have told you if you hadn't asked
me. I know; if a man cared about you, you'd expect him to want to
marry you."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Oh, why not? Only I'm one of the men who aren't designed for
husbands. I could make a beautiful lover--while it lasted; a very
staunch friend--to a man, or a woman--all my life; but everybody has
his limitations. Women are just the same. There are women who are
made to be daughters--they're perfect as daughters; but they should
never marry. There are women who're meant for mothers. _They_ should
never marry--I mean they make very poor wives. Not many of us are
first-class all round. Still that's nothing to do with it. I haven't
asked you for anything, and I'm not going to. If you had
been--different, well, for my own sake, I should have been very glad!
I never played 'Faust,' though, everybody's morality begins
somewhere--it's just my luck that I've got fond of a girl who _isn't_
'different.' But there it is! We needn't talk about it. Put that
aside, and let me help you as if I were your brother. I don't feel
like your brother, but you can trust me just as much. I quite
understand. I'm not vain enough to suppose you like me, but I quite
understand that it would be 'no use' if you did."
She looked beyond him pensively, and pensively she hummed:--
"'What is the use of loving a girl
If the girl don't love you?
What is the use of loving a girl
When you know she don't want yer _to_?'"
"Don't do that," said Conrad. "I'm trying to talk to you like a chum.
If you sing that song, I shall kiss you."
"Well, what do you want me to say?" she asked, strolling on.
"I don't want you to say anything. You'll get the money for the others
in the morning, and I'll send you the hundred during the day."
"You're not to!" she exclaimed. "I don't need it, I swear I don't.
You're not to send Tattie or me a shilling. If you do, I'll send it
back."
"Why?"
"Because I don't need it, that's why."
"No it isn't. It's because you don't believe what I've said. My dear
girl, I don't suppose I shall ever see you again after you leave here.
When do you go?"
"We go to-morrow."
"You and Tattie? I mean 'Miss Lascelles'?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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