New York (State) -- Fiction; West (U.S.) -- Fiction
“That is what _I_ call being simple,” she went on briskly. “If you
think we can be that in New York, let us live there. _I_ could be simple
there, but not with you, sir! That terrible East Side would be shaking
its gory locks at us. We should feel that we did it--or you would! Then
good-by to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness!”
“You are my life, liberty, and happiness, and I will be your almoner,”
said Paul, “and dispense you”--
“Dispense _with_ me!” laughed the girl. “And what shall I be doing while
you are dispensing me on the East Side? New York has other sides. While
you go slumming with the Seraph, I shall be talking to the Snake! Now,
_do_ laugh!” she entreated childishly, turning her sparkling face to
his.
“Am I expected to laugh at that?”
“Well, what shall we do? Don't make me harden my heart before it has had
time to soften naturally. Give my poor pagan sympathies a little time to
ripen.”
“But you have lived in New York. Did you find it such a strain on your
sympathies?”
“I was a visitor; and a girl is not expected to have sympathies. But to
begin our home there: we should have to strike a note of some sort.
How if my note should jar with yours? Paul, dear, it isn't nice to
have convictions when one is young and going to be married. You know it
isn't. It's not poetic, and it's not polite, and it's a dreadful bore!”
The altruist and lover winced at this. Allowing for exaggeration, which
was the life of speech with her, he knew that Moya was giving him a bit
of her true self, that changeful, changeless self which goes behind all
law and “follows joy and only joy.” Her voice dropped into its sweetest
tones of intimacy.
“Why need we live in a crowd? Why must we be pressed upon with all this
fuss and doing? Doing, doing! We are not ready to do anything yet. Every
day must have its dawn;--and I don't see my way yet; I'm hardly awake!”
“Darling, hush! You must not say such things to me. For you only to look
at me like that is the most terrible temptation of my life. You make
me forget everything a man is bound--that I of all men am bound to
remember.”
“Then I will keep on looking! Behold, I am Happiness, Selfishness, if
you like! I have come to stay. No, really, it's not nice of you to act
as if you were under higher orders. You are under my orders. What right
have we to choose each other if we are not to be better to each other
than to any one else?--if our lives belong to any one who needs us, or
our time and money, more than we need it ourselves? Why did you choose
me? Why not somebody pathetic--one of your Poor Things; or else save
yourself whole for all the Poor Things?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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