Scarlet and Hyssop: A NovelBenson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
General
Scarlet and Hyssop: A Novel
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
London (England) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction
It is commonly said that modern life is too full and too complex, but
this generalization requires limiting. Certainly to a man, or in
particular a woman, not belonging to "the world," a sudden plunge into
that frothy mill-race would be complex to the verge of distraction. But
there are many ways of simplifying this complexity, and one of the most
convenient and efficient is to strike out, without further
consideration, all moral obligations, positive and negative. When once
one no longer thinks it necessary to reflect whether one ought or ought
not to do or to avoid a thing, the saving of time and tissue is quite
enormous. For it is not so much doing things as thinking about them
which consumes the minutes and the nerves, and once having made an
unalterable rule to do a thing if it is pleasant, and refrain from it if
it is not, one can get into a single day a number of delightful
experiences which would appear to those who do not know the recipe quite
incredible. Again, as among wild beasts, so in the world, the weak go to
the wall. There is no place for them, and no use for them. Every one has
to look out for himself, and fight for his own possessions and those of
other people. Not to recognise this spells failure. Such, at any rate,
was Lord Alston's experience, and he was generally understood to have
had a good deal of it.
But as he sat now with the stale paper on his knees he had a vague
sense of being balked. He knew his own section of the world fairly well,
and having broken his rose-coloured spectacles a long time ago, and not
having desired to get new ones, he realized that people certainly
remembered Jim Spencer's attachment to his wife, and that piecing
together with their habitual amiability, their opinion of the
ill-success of his own marriage with her, her frankly low opinion of the
world, and the possibility of the renewed intimacy of his wife and this
man, they would say things which would annoy him personally. He had
hoped that Marie would see this, or if not that, at any rate learn it by
heart, so to speak, from a few well-chosen remarks of his. But she had
done neither the one nor the other; she had taken the well-chosen
remarks, so he considered, remarkably ill, and the only _amende_ had
been to say that she would forget all about it. To Jack's mind this was
but poor wifely conduct.
CHAPTER II
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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