The Little Vanities of Mrs. Whittaker: A NovelWinter, John Strange
General
The Little Vanities of Mrs. Whittaker: A Novel
Winter, John Strange
Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
"Sandwich? I think I am not equal to sandwich to-day. Something has
happened to me; I have had a shock, and you know how we weak women fly
to feminine articles of food when we are in trouble."
"I am sorry you are in trouble, madam."
"I came in here knowing I should be quiet, and it is very quiet."
"It is the end of July. In another week we shall be more quiet still,
and after that, when the country people come, we shall not know where to
turn. When you come back from abroad or from your sojourn by the sea we
shall be as you always see us."
"I think I will have another muffin."
"I would, madam. I will tell them to put plenty of butter on it. And a
pot of tea, and a little more cream?"
"Yes," said Regina, rather weakly. The girl disappeared again, and
Regina sat back in her chair, a very comfortable one, and felt that it
was pleasant to be ministered to, and then fell to thinking about
herself again. How strange that she had never noticed any change in
Alfred! He had never seemed to find her wanting in any way. More than
once, even of late years, he had told her that the girls would never be
a patch upon her for looks, and she had accepted his tribute to her
charms in all good faith. And then she turned to the glass again and
regarded herself with new eyes--critical eyes--and she saw that her
dress was hideous, her bonnet a travesty, her hair, fine in quality and
very decent in color, made nothing of, her gloves were too small or her
hands too large. What did it matter, the result was the same; she was
inelegant, unfashionable, grotesquely stout--she was all wrong, and it
seemed as if all she had done by her work for the regeneration of
womanhood had been to cut herself adrift from her own husband.
I have said that Regina Whittaker was a very remarkable character, and I
have tried to show that she was a woman who was accustomed to judge for
herself in most circumstances of life, and who, even if she took the
wrong line, took it on her own, so to speak. Now, in what I may honestly
say was the bitterest moment of her life, she decided, judged and
determined on her own line of action just as she had done in previous
times. At this moment the relay of muffin and fresh tea arrived, and
Regina, with a smile of thanks, began with an excellent appetite to eat
the second half of her meal, and as she ate her thoughts were working
busily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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