England -- Fiction; Experimental fiction; Psychological fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- England -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
After all, it was none of her fault. But the thought saddened him. It's
not catastrophes, murders, deaths, diseases, that age and kill us; it's
the way people look and laugh, and run up the steps of omnibuses.
Any excuse, though, serves a stupid woman. He told her his head ached.
But when she looked at him, dumbly, half-guessing, half-understanding,
apologizing perhaps, anyhow saying as he had said, "It's none of my
fault," straight and beautiful in body, her face like a shell within its
cap, then he knew that cloisters and classics are no use whatever. The
problem is insoluble.
CHAPTER SEVEN
About this time a firm of merchants having dealings with the East put on
the market little paper flowers which opened on touching water. As it
was the custom also to use finger-bowls at the end of dinner, the new
discovery was found of excellent service. In these sheltered lakes the
little coloured flowers swam and slid; surmounted smooth slippery waves,
and sometimes foundered and lay like pebbles on the glass floor. Their
fortunes were watched by eyes intent and lovely. It is surely a great
discovery that leads to the union of hearts and foundation of homes. The
paper flowers did no less.
It must not be thought, though, that they ousted the flowers of nature.
Roses, lilies, carnations in particular, looked over the rims of vases
and surveyed the bright lives and swift dooms of their artificial
relations. Mr. Stuart Ormond made this very observation; and charming it
was thought; and Kitty Craster married him on the strength of it six
months later. But real flowers can never be dispensed with. If they
could, human life would be a different affair altogether. For flowers
fade; chrysanthemums are the worst; perfect over night; yellow and jaded
next morning--not fit to be seen. On the whole, though the price is
sinful, carnations pay best;--it's a question, however, whether it's
wise to have them wired. Some shops advise it. Certainly it's the only
way to keep them at a dance; but whether it is necessary at dinner
parties, unless the rooms are very hot, remains in dispute. Old Mrs.
Temple used to recommend an ivy leaf--just one--dropped into the bowl.
She said it kept the water pure for days and days. But there is some
reason to think that old Mrs. Temple was mistaken.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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