Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
She snorted at the closing door, but felt that he had come near to
defining what she wanted. It was not a good man she needed, of course,
but nice men, nice women. She had often thought that of late. Sometimes
she would sit up in bed and stare through the darkness at an imaginary
group of people whom she desired to be with--well-found people who would
disclose themselves to one another with vivacity and beautiful results;
who in large lighted rooms would display a splendid social life that had
been previously nurtured by separate tender intimacies at hearths that
were more than grates and fenders, in private picture-galleries with
wide spaces between the pictures, and libraries adorned with big-nosed
marble busts. She knew that that environment existed for she had seen
it. Once she had gone to a Primrose League picnic in the grounds of an
Edinburgh M.P.'s country home and the secretary had taken her up to the
house. They had waited in a high, long room with crossed swords on the
walls wherever there were not bookshelves or the portraits of men and
women so proud that they had not minded being painted plain, and there
were French windows opening to a flagged terrace where one could lean on
an ornate balustrade and look over a declivity made sweet with many
flowering trees to a wooded cliff laced by a waterfall that seemed, so
broad the intervening valley, to spring silently to the bouldered
river-bed below. On a white bearskin, in front of one of the few
unnecessary fires she had ever seen, slept a boar-hound. It was a pity
that the books lying on the great round table were mostly the drawings
of Dana Gibson and that when the lady of the house came in to speak to
them she proved to be a lisping Jewess, but that could not dull the
pearl of the spectacle. She insisted on using the memory as a guarantee
that there must exist, to occupy this environment, that imagined society
of thin men without an Edinburgh accent, of women who were neither thin
like her schoolmistresses nor fat like her schoolfellows' mothers and
whose hair had no short ends round the neck.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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