New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
She was studying the stockings, and she drew away with her head at
a critical angle.
“It’s a queer thing,” she said, “that certain stripes do make the
ankle look large. Theoretically they ought to make it look slim,
but you take my word for it, Max, they don’t.”
“Nothing could make your ankles look anything but slim, Christine,”
he replied politely.
“No, my ankles are rather good, aren’t they?” she replied, and then
as if she had now disposed of the more serious topic, she added:
“And so you are going home? Well, you mayn’t believe it, but I
shall really miss you a great deal. Oh, look at these jade flowers!
They’re really good.”
Riatt looked at the pale lilac and pink blossoms starting from
their icy green leaves, but he hardly saw them. He was disgusted at
the discovery of an unexpected perversity in his nature. He found
himself hardly pleased at the absence of protest with which his
announcement was greeted. All her attention was absorbed by the
jade.
“Wouldn’t it look well on our drawing-room mantel-piece?” she said.
“I’ll give it to you as a wedding present,” he answered. “That is,
if you think Hickson would like it.”
“I don’t think he’ll like anything you ever give me. He did not
even like my ring. He thinks the stone too large. By the way,
I never properly thanked you for the ring. It has been most
splendidly persuasive. Even Nancy grew pale when she saw the proof
of your sincerity.”
“Will it be sufficient even in the face of my continued absence?”
he asked, for it occurred to him that perhaps she had not
understood that he meant to remain in the West indefinitely.
“Oh, I think so,” she answered, pleasantly. “You might write to
me now and then, and I’ll show just a suitable paragraph here and
there to an intimate friend.”
A new idea suddenly occurred to him. Had she any motive for
desiring his absence? Had some unexpected possibility cropped up?
Did she want to get rid of him? Not, he added, that he minded if
she did, but it would be rather interesting to know.
“I’m going a little earlier than I expected,” he went on, “because
the Lanes are going, and I hate to make that long journey alone.”
She nodded understandingly. “It will be much nicer for you to have
them.”
He looked at her coldly. It seemed to him he had never known a
more callous nature. And to think that the evening before she had
actually shed tears, simply because he took another girl to lunch!
It caught his attention, he said to himself, just as a study in
human nature.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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