The Irrational Knot: Being the Second Novel of His NonageShaw, Bernard
General
The Irrational Knot: Being the Second Novel of His Nonage
Shaw, Bernard
Marriage -- Fiction; Social classes -- Fiction
“No,” said Marian, foreseeing with a bitter pang and a terrible blush
what must follow. “He is in England. I am alone here.”
“Well, why—? what—? I dont understand.”
“Have you not read the papers?” said Marian, in a low voice, turning
her head away.
“Papers! No, not since I saw an account of my brilliant _debût_ here,
of which I suppose you have heard. I never read: I do nothing but
drink. What has happened?”
Marian hesitated.
“Is it any secret?” said Susanna.
“No, it is no secret,” said Marian, turning, and looking at her
steadily. “All the world knows it. I have left your brother; and I do
not know whether I am still his wife, or whether I am already
divorced.”
“You dont mean to say youre on the loose!” cried Susanna.
Marian was silent.
“I always told Ned that no woman could stand him,” said Susanna, with
sodden vivacity, after a pause, during which Marian had to endure her
astonished stare. “He always thought you the very pink of propriety. Of
course, there was another man in it. Whats become of him, if I may
ask?”
“I have left him,” said Marian, sternly. “You need impute no fault to
your brother in the matter, Miss Conolly. He is quite blameless.”
“Yes,” said Susanna, not in the least impressed, “he always is
blameless. How is Bob? I mean Marmaduke, your cousin. I call him Bob,
short for Cherry Bob.”
“He is very well, thank you.”
“Now, Bob was not a blameless man, but altogether the reverse; and he
was a capital fellow to get on with. Ned was always right, always sure
of himself; and there was an end. He has no variety. I wonder will Bob
ever get married?”
“He is going to be married in the spring.”
“Who to?”
“To Lady Constance Car——”
“Damn that woman!” exclaimed Susanna. “I hate her. She was always
throwing herself at his head. Curse her! Damn her! I wish——”
“Miss Conolly,” said Marian: “I hope you will not think me rude; but I
am very tired, and it is very late. I must go to bed.”
“Well, will you come and see me to-morrow? It will be an act of
charity. I am dying here all alone. You are a nice woman, and I know
what you must feel about me; but you will get used to me. I wont annoy
you. I wont swear. I wont say anything about your cousin. I’ll keep
sober. Do come. You are a good sort: Bob always said so; and you might
save me from destroying myself. Say youll come.”
“If you particularly wish it, I will,” said Marian, not disguising her
reluctance.
“Youd rather not, of course,” said Susanna, despondently.
“I am afraid I cannot be of any use to you.”
“For that matter, no one is likely to be of much use to me. But it’s
hard to be imprisoned in this den without anyone to speak to but Eliza.
However, do as you please. I did as I pleased; and I must take the
consequences. Just tell me one thing. Did you find me out by accident?”
“Quite.”
“That was odd.” Susanna groaned again as she rose from the sofa. “Well,
since you wont have anything to do with me, good-bye. Youre quite
right.”
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