The Secret Places of the HeartWells, H. G. (Herbert George)
General
The Secret Places of the Heart
Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)
England -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Psychological fiction
For a little while he thought confusedly of the collapse of his
expedition into the secret places of his own heart with Dr. Martineau,
and then his prepossession with Miss Grammont resumed possession of his
mind. Dr. Martineau was forgotten.
Section 2
For the better part of forty hours, Sir Richmond had either been talking
to Miss Grammont, or carrying on imaginary conversations with her in her
absence, or sleeping and dreaming dreams in which she never failed
to play a part, even if at times it was an altogether amazing and
incongruous part. And as they were both very frank and expressive
people, they already knew a very great deal about each other.
For an American Miss Grammont was by no means autobiographical. She
gave no sketches of her idiosyncrasies, and she repeated no remembered
comments and prophets of her contemporaries about herself. She either
concealed or she had lost any great interest in her own personality. But
she was interested in and curious about the people she had met in life,
and her talk of them reflected a considerable amount of light upon her
own upbringing and experiences. And her liking for Sir Richmond was
pleasingly manifest. She liked his turn of thought, she watched him
with a faint smile on her lips as he spoke, and she spread her opinions
before him carefully in that soft voice of hers like a shy child showing
its treasures to some suddenly trusted and favoured visitor.
Their ways of thought harmonized. They talked at first chiefly about the
history of the world and the extraordinary situation of aimlessness in a
phase of ruin to which the Great War had brought all Europe, if not all
mankind. The world excited them both in the same way; as a crisis in
which they were called upon to do something--they did not yet clearly
know what. Into this topic they peered as into some deep pool, side by
side, and in it they saw each other reflected.
The visit to Avebury had been a great success. It had been a
perfect springtime day, and the little inn had been delighted at the
reappearance of Sir Richmond’s car so soon after its departure. Its
delight was particularly manifest in the cream and salad it produced
for lunch. Both Miss Grammont and Miss Seyffert displayed an intelligent
interest in their food. After lunch they had all gone out to the stones
and the wall. Half a dozen sunburnt children were putting one of the
partially overturned megaliths to a happy use by clambering to the top
of it and sliding on their little behinds down its smooth and sloping
side amidst much mirthful squealing.
Sir Richmond and Miss Grammont had walked round the old circumvallation
together, but Belinda Seyffert had strayed away from them, professing
an interest in flowers. It was not so much that she felt they had to be
left together that made her do this as her own consciousness of being
possessed by a devil who interrupted conversations.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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