If Winter ComesHutchinson, A. S. M. (Arthur Stuart-Menteth)
General
If Winter Comes
Hutchinson, A. S. M. (Arthur Stuart-Menteth)
Fiction
Sabre felt Mabel pluck at his sleeve. He glanced at her. Her face was
very angry. Miss Bypass, delivered of her sharp words, was deeper
flushed, her head drawn back. He smiled at her. "Why, I'm sure it would,
Miss Bypass. I tell you what, we must have a talk about reading one day,
shall we? I think it would be rather jolly to exchange ideas."
An extraordinary and rather alarming change came over Miss Bypass's hard
face. Sabre thought she was going to cry. She said in a thick voice,
"Oh, I don't really read anything particularly good. It's only--Mr.
Sabre, thank you." She turned abruptly away.
When they were outside, Mabel said, "How extraordinary you are!"
"Eh? What about?"
"Making up to that girl like that! I never heard such rudeness as the
way she spoke to you." Sabre said, "Oh, I don't know."
"Don't know! When you spoke to her so politely and the way she answered
you! And then you reply quite pleasantly--"
He laughed. "You didn't expect me to give her a hard punch in the eye,
did you?"
"No, of course I didn't expect you to give her a hard punch in the eye.
But I should have thought you'd have had more sense of your own dignity
than to take no notice and invite her to have a talk one day."
He thought, "Here we are again!" He said, "Well, but look, Mabel. I
don't think she means it for rudeness. She is rude of course, beastly
rude; but, you know, that manner of hers always makes me feel
frightfully sorry for her."
"Sorry!"
"Yes, haven't you noticed many people like her with that defiant sort of
way of speaking--people not very well educated, or very badly off, or in
rather a dependent position, and most frightfully conscious of it. They
think every one is looking down on them, or patronising them, and the
result is they're on the defensive all the time. Well, that's awfully
pathetic, you know, all your life being on the defensive; back against
the wall; can't get away; always making feeble little rushes at the mob.
By Jove, that's pathetic, Mabel."
She said, "I'm not listening, you know."
He was startled. "Eh?"
"I say I'm not listening. I always know that whenever I say anything
about any one I dislike, you immediately start making excuses for them,
so I simply don't listen."
He mastered a sudden feeling within him. "Well, it wasn't very
interesting," he said.
"No, it certainly wasn't. Pathetic!" She gave her sudden burst of
laughter. "You think such extraordinary things pathetic; I wonder you
don't start an orphanage!"
He halted and faced her. "Look here, I think I'll leave you here. I
think I'll go for a bit of a walk."
Pretty hard, sometimes, not to--
III
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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