sort of contributions they welcomed, how much they paid a thousand, and
whether they paid promptly or otherwise. To me it was all very
romantic. It gave me an intimate sense of being a member of some mystic
brotherhood.
Chapter IV
No one was kinder to me at that time than Rose Waterford. She combined
a masculine intelligence with a feminine perversity, and the novels she
wrote were original and disconcerting. It was at her house one day that
I met Charles Strickland’s wife. Miss Waterford was giving a tea-party,
and her small room was more than usually full. Everyone seemed to be
talking, and I, sitting in silence, felt awkward; but I was too shy to
break into any of the groups that seemed absorbed in their own affairs.
Miss Waterford was a good hostess, and seeing my embarrassment came up
to me.
“I want you to talk to Mrs. Strickland,” she said. “She’s raving about
your book.”
“What does she do?” I asked.
I was conscious of my ignorance, and if Mrs. Strickland was a
well-known writer I thought it as well to ascertain the fact before I
spoke to her.
Rose Waterford cast down her eyes demurely to give greater effect to
her reply.
“She gives luncheon-parties. You’ve only got to roar a little, and
she’ll ask you.”
Rose Waterford was a cynic. She looked upon life as an opportunity for
writing novels and the public as her raw material. Now and then she
invited members of it to her house if they showed an appreciation of
her talent and entertained with proper lavishness. She held their
weakness for lions in good-humoured contempt, but played to them her
part of the distinguished woman of letters with decorum.
I was led up to Mrs. Strickland, and for ten minutes we talked
together. I noticed nothing about her except that she had a pleasant
voice. She had a flat in Westminster, overlooking the unfinished
cathedral, and because we lived in the same neighbourhood we felt
friendly disposed to one another. The Army and Navy Stores are a bond
of union between all who dwell between the river and St. James’s Park.
Mrs. Strickland asked me for my address, and a few days later I
received an invitation to luncheon.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account