The Fashionable Adventures of Joshua Craig: A NovelPhillips, David Graham
General
The Fashionable Adventures of Joshua Craig: A Novel
Phillips, David Graham
Adventure stories; Fiction
His expression told her that he was congratulating himself on his wisdom
and success in having given her a sharp talking to; that he was thinking
it had brought her to her senses, had restored her respect for him, had
opened the way for her love for him to begin to show itself--that love
which he so firmly believed in, egotist that he was! Could anything be
more infuriating? Yet--after all, what difference did it make, so long
as he yielded? And once she had him enthralled, then--ah, yes--THEN!
Meanwhile she must remember that the first principle of successful
deception is self-deception, and must try to convince herself that she
was what she was pretending to be.
Dinner was served, and he fell to like a harvest hand. As he had the
habit, when he was very hungry, of stuffing his mouth far too full for
speech, she was free to carry out her little program of encouraging talk
and action. As she advanced from hesitating compliment to flattery, to
admiring glances, to lingering look, she marveled at her facility. "I
suppose ages and ages of dreadful necessity have made it second nature
to every woman, even the best of us," reflected she. If he weren't a
handsome, superior man she might be finding it more difficult; also, no
doubt the surroundings, so romantic, so fitting as background for his
ruggedness, were helping her to dexterity and even enthusiasm.
It was amusing, how she deceived herself--for the harmless
self-deceptions of us chronic mummers are always amusing. The fact was,
this melting and inviting mood had far more of nature and sincerity in
it than there had been in her icy aloofness. Icy aloofness, except in
the heroines of aristocratic novels, is a state of mind compatible only
with extreme stupidity or with some one of those organic diseases that
sour the disposition. Never had she been in such health as in that camp,
never so buoyant, never had merely being alive been so deliciously
intoxicating; the scratch he had made on her throat had healed in
twenty-four hours, had all but disappeared in seventy-two. Never had she
known to such a degree what a delight a body can be, the sense of its
eagerness to bring to the mind all the glorious pleasures of the senses.
Whatever disinclination she had toward him was altogether a prompting of
class education; now that she had let down the bars and released feeling
she was in heart glad he was there with her, glad he was "such a MAN of
a man."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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