Too Old for Dolls: A NovelLudovici, Anthony M. (Anthony Mario)
General
Too Old for Dolls: A Novel
Ludovici, Anthony M. (Anthony Mario)
England -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Having long previously examined her fellow-passengers and judged them
uninteresting, she divided her attention between the fleeting landscape
at her side, a box of fruit creams, which she was consuming with grave
perseverance, and the contents of a pocket-portfolio, which she
appeared to be slowly sorting and weeding out. To everything she did,
however, to each one of her movements, she had the air of imparting so
much mysteriousness, so much elaborate secrecy, that she soon found
herself the object of the united attention of all her companions. And
occasionally when her fresh full lips parted in a smile at the things
she read, the old gentleman opposite her had to turn also to the
fleeting landscape as a prophylactic against the infection of her high
spirits.
She gave the impression of that aggressive vitality with which Nature
seems deliberately to equip her more favoured female children at this
age, as if to challenge the other sex to a definite attitude
immediately. A quivering freshness--the "bloom" of the poets--gave a
soft shimmer to her skin of which the powder of later years is such a
palpably poor travesty; her limbs were nicely rounded and not too
fragile; her teeth, like Cleopatra's, were perfect, and although she was
a trifle smaller than her sister, she was broad across the shoulders,
and well developed.
Leonetta, as we have already seen, knew that she was attractive; but she
did not know this fact as surely and unmistakably as--say, a philosopher
looking at her did. She probably knew that she was sunburnt, for
instance; but she was not aware of the depth which the dark natural
virginal pigmentation of her neck, eyes, and knuckles, lent to the warm
tanning of her skin. She did not know how prone the philosopher is to
associate the combination of these two rich colourings with the wicked,
dusky denizens of a tropical jungle--those creatures whose blood he
suspects of being something deeper than red, who really look as if they
were made from the earth and were going back to it, and who have nothing
of that translucent pallor suggestive of heaven-sent and heaven-destined
attributes.
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