Americans -- France -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; France -- Fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
The desire for change had for some time been latent in him, and his
meeting with Mrs. Leath the previous spring had given it a definite
direction. With such a comrade to focus and stimulate his energies he
felt modestly but agreeably sure of “doing something”. And under this
assurance was the lurking sense that he was somehow worthy of his
opportunity. His life, on the whole, had been a creditable affair. Out
of modest chances and middling talents he had built himself a fairly
marked personality, known some exceptional people, done a number of
interesting and a few rather difficult things, and found himself, at
thirty-seven, possessed of an intellectual ambition sufficient to occupy
the passage to a robust and energetic old age. As for the private and
personal side of his life, it had come up to the current standards, and
if it had dropped, now and then, below a more ideal measure, even these
declines had been brief, parenthetic, incidental. In the recognized
essentials he had always remained strictly within the limit of his
scruples.
From this reassuring survey of his case he came back to the
contemplation of its crowning felicity. His mind turned again to his
first meeting with Anna Summers and took up one by one the threads of
their faintly sketched romance. He dwelt with pardonable pride on
the fact that fate had so early marked him for the high privilege of
possessing her: it seemed to mean that they had really, in the truest
sense of the ill-used phrase, been made for each other.
Deeper still than all these satisfactions was the mere elemental sense
of well-being in her presence. That, after all, was what proved her to
be the woman for him: the pleasure he took in the set of her head, the
way her hair grew on her forehead and at the nape, her steady gaze when
he spoke, the grave freedom of her gait and gestures. He recalled every
detail of her face, the fine veinings of the temples, the bluish-brown
shadows in her upper lids, and the way the reflections of two stars
seemed to form and break up in her eyes when he held her close to him...
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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