Bildungsromans; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Mothers and daughters -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
She had another, a briefer pause. “Don’t you think it about time you
SHOULD?” Once more she waited, then seemed to feel her opportunity
wouldn’t. “We’ve worked a bit together, but you don’t take me into your
confidence. I dare say you don’t believe I’m quite straight. Don’t you
really see how I MUST be?” She had a pleading note which made him at
last more consentingly face her. “Don’t you see,” she went on with the
advantage of it, “that, having got all I want for myself, I haven’t a
motive in the world for spoiling the fun of another? I don’t want in the
least, I assure you, to spoil even Mrs. Brook’s; for how will she get a
bit less out of him--I mean than she does now--if what you desire SHOULD
take place? Honestly, my dear man, that’s quite what _I_ desire, and I
only want, over and above, to help you. What I feel for Nanda, believe
me, is pure pity. I won’t say I’m frantically grateful to her, because
in the long run--one way or another--she’ll have found her account. It
nevertheless worries me to see her; and all the more because of this
very certitude, which you’ve so kindly just settled for me, that our
young man hasn’t really with her mother--”
Whatever the certitude Mr. Longdon had kindly settled, it was in another
interest that he at this moment broke in. “Is he YOUR young man too?”
She was not too much amused to cast about her.
“Aren’t such marked ornaments of life a little the property of all who
admire and enjoy them?”
“You ‘enjoy’ him?” Mr. Longdon asked in the same straightforward way.
“Immensely.”
His silence for a little seemed the sign of a plan. “What is it he
hasn’t done with Mrs. Brook?”
“Well, the thing that WOULD be the complication. He hasn’t gone beyond
a certain point. You may ask how one knows such matters, but I’m afraid
I’ve not quite a receipt for it. A woman knows, but she can’t tell. They
haven’t done, as it’s called, anything wrong.”
Mr. Longdon frowned. “It would be extremely horrid if they had.”
“Ah but, for you and me who know life, it isn’t THAT that--if other
things had made for it--would have prevented! As it happens, however,
we’ve got off easily. She doesn’t speak to him--!”
She had forms he could only take up. “‘Speak’ to him--?”
“Why as much as she would have liked to be able to believe.”
“Then where’s the danger of which you appear to wish to warn me?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account