Fan : The Story of a Young Girl's LifeHudson, W. H. (William Henry)
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Fan : The Story of a Young Girl's Life
Hudson, W. H. (William Henry)
Fiction
“I presume this is a socialistic print,” said Eden, after reading the
paragraph. “Well, I can't say I congratulate you on your new--departure.
Still, it is something to be thought well of by those you are working
with, and you can't complain that your editor has not laid it on thick
enough in this passage.”
Merton's brows contracted; he did not like this speech, and before
replying swallowed a glass of claret.
“Eden,” he returned, “this is too serious a matter for a jest. But I
do not think that anything is to be gained by discussing it. I should
certainly gain nothing by informing you that everyone has a right to
live, since a certain number of human beings must give up living, or, in
other words, live like dogs, in order that you may have something beyond
the mere necessaries of life--something to make your existence pleasant.
This only I will say. If you are one of those who persistently shut
their eyes to the fact that a change has come, that it will no longer be
as it has been, then all I have to say is, My friend, I have warned you,
and here we part company.”
“But not,” thought Eden, “before you have finished your second bottle of
claret.” He only said, “I really never had any taste for politics,” and
then added, “You have not said, Chance, whether your wife is with you in
this new--departure?”
“My wife,” said Merton, somewhat loftily, “is always with me.” But more
than that he did not say about his domestic affairs; nor did he even
think to give his address before they separated.
Eden did not fail to write to Fan, telling her that he had seen and
talked with Merton, and asking her to meet him at the Marble Arch on
the next Sunday morning, when he would be able to tell her all that had
passed between his friend and himself. She replied on the following day,
promising to meet him, in one of her characteristic letters, which he
always read over a great many times and admired very much, and which
nevertheless had always had the effect of irritating him a little and
making his hope for a time look pale. They were so transparently simple
and straightforward, and expressed so openly the friendly feelings she
had for him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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