British -- Italy -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; Female friendship -- Fiction; Italy -- Fiction; Love stories
It was enough to root anybody. Lady Caroline shaking hands with what
evidently, if he had had clothes on, would have been Mrs. Wilkins’s
husband, and both of them conversing just as if—
Then Scrap became aware of Mrs. Fisher. She turned to her at once. “Do
let me,” she said gracefully, “introduce Mr. Mellersh-Wilkins. He has
just come. This,” she added, turning to Mr. Wilkins, “is Mrs. Fisher.”
And Mr. Wilkins, nothing if not courteous, reacted at once to the
conventional formula. First he bowed to the elderly lady in the
doorway, then he crossed over to her, his wet feet leaving footprints
as he went, and having got to her he politely held out his hand.
“It is a pleasure,” said Mr. Wilkins in his carefully modulated voice,
“to meet a friend of my wife’s.”
Scrap melted away down into the garden.
Chapter 15
The strange effect of this incident was that when they met that evening
at dinner both Mrs. Fisher and Lady Caroline had a singular feeling of
secret understanding with Mr. Wilkins. He could not be to them as other
men. He could not be to them as he would have been if they had met him
in his clothes. There was a sense of broken ice; they felt at once
intimate and indulgent; almost they felt to him as nurses do—as those
feel who have assisted either patients or young children at their
baths. They were acquainted with Mr. Wilkins’s legs.
What Mrs. Fisher said to him that morning in her first shock will never
be known, but what Mr. Wilkins said to her in reply, when reminded by
what she was saying of his condition, was so handsome in its apology,
so proper in its confusion, that she had ended by being quite sorry for
him and completely placated. After all, it was an accident, and nobody
could help accidents. And when she saw him next at dinner, dressed,
polished, spotless as to linen and sleek as to hair, she felt this
singular sensation of a secret understanding with him and, added to it,
of a kind of almost personal pride in his appearance, now that he was
dressed, which presently extended in some subtle way to an almost
personal pride in everything he said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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