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"Marble, Parian marble!" muttered Paul. "O Cypris! Cytherea! Paphia!" "Be quiet, you donkey!" It really seemed as if the flame of the candle understood our appreciation and ministered specially to our admiration.
'Do you want me any longer? said Cytherea, standing candle in hand and looking quietly in Miss Aldclyffe's face. 'Well no: no longer, said the other lingeringly. 'With your permission, I will leave the house to morrow morning, madam. 'Ah. Miss Aldclyffe had no notion of what she was saying. 'And I know you will be so good as not to intrude upon me during the short remainder of my stay?
Just at present, and in America, the popularity of a series of novels like "The Beautiful and Damned," "The Wasted Generation," "Erik Dorn," and "Cytherea," seems to indicate that many middle-aged readers wish to experience vicariously the alcoholic irresponsibility of a society of "flappers," young graduates, and country club rakes, who threw the pilot overboard as soon as they left the war zone and have been cruising wildly ever since.
His example shows that I was not so far wrong in my estimate of men after all, though I only generalized, and had no thought of him. This was perfectly true. 'What do you mean? said Cytherea, visibly alarmed. 'Mean?
'Something very serious has taken place, she said again, and then paused, with a tremulous movement of her mouth. 'Yes, said Cytherea. 'My father. He was found dead in his bed this morning. 'Dead! echoed the younger woman. It seemed impossible that the announcement could be true; that knowledge of so great a fact could be contained in a statement so small.
'They rot as black as a chimney-crook if we keep 'em till the regulars turn in. As he spoke he went back to the press, Cytherea keeping at his elbow. 'I'm later than I should have been by rights, he continued, taking up a lever for propelling the screw, and beckoning to the men to come forward.
The Sunday was the thirteenth after Trinity, and the afternoon service at Carriford was nearly over. The people were singing the Evening Hymn. Manston was at church as usual in his accustomed place two seats forward from the large square pew occupied by Miss Aldclyffe and Cytherea.
But to a close observer it was palpable enough that God did not do all the picture. Appearing at least seven years older than Cytherea, she was probably her senior by double the number, the artificial means employed to heighten the natural good appearance of her face being very cleverly applied.
And I wanted to see him your husband, Cytherea! the husband of my true lover's child. It was a sweet dream to me.... Pity me O, pity me! To die unloved is more than I can bear! I loved your father, and I love him now. That was the burden of Cytherea Aldclyffe. 'I suppose you must leave me again you always leave me, she said, after holding the young woman's hand a long while in silence.
'I gnashed my teeth in a frenzy of despair; I had lost Cytherea; I had gained one whose beauty had departed, whose utterance was complaint, whose mind was shallow, and who drank brandy every day. The revulsion of feeling was terrible. Providence, whom I had just thanked, seemed a mocking tormentor laughing at me. I felt like a madman. 'She came close started at seeing me outside then spoke to me.
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