Our Mr. Wrenn: The Romantic Adventures of a Gentle ManLewis, Sinclair
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Our Mr. Wrenn: The Romantic Adventures of a Gentle Man
Lewis, Sinclair
Courtship -- Fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Middle-aged men -- United States -- Fiction
Nelly was very pleasant to Mr. Wrenn, but she called him neither Billy
nor anything else, and mostly she talked to Miss Proudfoot, smiling at
him, but saying nothing when he managed to get out a jest about Mrs.
Arty’s chewing-gum. When he moved to her side with a wooden plate of
cream-cheese sandwiches (which Tom humorously termed “cold-cream
wafers”) Mr. Wrenn started to explain how he had come to enter Istra’s
room.
“Why shouldn’t you?” Nelly asked, curtly, and turned to Miss Proudfoot.
“She doesn’t seem to care much,” he reflected, relieved and stabbed in
his humble vanity and reattracted to Nelly, all at once. He was anxious
about her opinion of Istra and her opinion of himself, and slightly
defiant, as she continued to regard him as a respectable person whose
name she couldn’t exactly remember.
Hadn’t he the right to love Istra if he wanted to? he desired to know
of himself. Besides, what had he _done?_ Just gone out walking with his
English hotel acquaintance Istra! He hadn’t been in her room but just a
few minutes. Fine reason that was for Nelly to act like a blooming
iceberg! Besides, it wasn’t as if he were engaged to Nelly, or anything
like that. Besides, of course Istra would never care for him. There
were several other besideses with which he harrowed himself while
trying to appear picnically agreeable. He was getting very much
confused, and was slightly abrupt as he said to Nelly, “Let’s walk over
to that high rock on the edge.”
A dusky afterglow filled the sky before them as they silently trudged
to the rock and from the top of the sheer cliff contemplated the smooth
and steely-gray Hudson below. Nelly squeaked her fear at the drop and
clutched his arm, but suddenly let go and drew back without his aid.
He groaned within, “I haven’t the right to help her.” He took her arm
as she hesitatingly climbed from the rock down to the ground.
She jerked it free, curtly saying, “No, thank you.”
She was repentant in a moment, and, cheerfully:
“Miss Nash took me in her room yesterday and showed me her things. My,
she’s got such be-_yoo_-ti-ful jewels! La V’lieres and pearls and a
swell amethyst brooch. My! She told me all about how the girls used to
study in Paris, and how sorry she would be to go back to California and
keep house.”
“Keep house?”
Nelly let him suffer for a moment before she relieved him with, “For
her father.”
“Oh…. Did she say she was going back to California soon?”
“Not till the end of the summer, maybe.”
“Oh…. Oh, Nelly—”
For the first time that day he was perfectly sincere. He was trying to
confide in her. But the shame of having emotions was on him. He got no
farther.
To his amazement, Nelly mused, “She is very nice.”
He tried hard to be gallant. “Yes, she is interesting, but of course
she ain’t anywheres near as nice as you are, Nelly, be—”
“Oh, don’t, Billy!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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