Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
And as Ellen looked, the forefinger swept again the sleek eyebrows.
Really, it was terrible that Richard's mother should be so deep in crime
as to be guilty of offences that are denounced at two separate sorts of
public meetings. She was a squaw who was all that men bitterly say women
are, not loving life and the way of serving it, undesirous of power,
content against all reason with her corruptible body and the clothing
and adorning of it. She was an economic parasite, setting wage-slaves to
produce luxuries for her to enjoy in idleness while millions of honest,
hard-working people have to exist without the bare necessities of life.
And now she was leaning forward, insolently untroubled by guilt, and
saying in that voice that was too lazy to articulate:
"You won't like anchovies; those things they're helping you to now."
Ellen made a confused noise as if she were committing an indiscretion,
and was furious at having made it, and then furious that she had
betrayed the fact that she did not know an anchovy when she saw it; and
then furious when the next moment Marion let the waiter put the limp
bronze things on her own plate. Why shouldn't she like them if Marion
did? Did Marion think she was a child who liked nothing but sugar-cakes?
When another waiter came and Marion murmured tentatively, "Wine?" she
answered with passionate assumption of self-possession, "Yes, please."
She almost wavered when Marion, not raising her eyes, asked, "Red or
white?" It brought her back to that night in the office when Mr. Philip
had made her drink that Burgundy and then had come towards her, looking
almost hump-back with strangeness, while all the shadows in the corners
had seemed to leap a little and then stand still in expectation. Fear
travelled through all her veins, weakening the blood; she pressed her
lips together and braced her shoulders, living the occasion over again
till all the evil things dissolved at Richard's knock upon the door.
Because of him, how immune from fear she had become! She lifted her eyes
to Marion and said confidently, "Red, please."
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