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Updated: June 8, 2025
The last of these occasions followed Benham's convalescence at Montana and his struggle with the Bisse; the two went to Zermatt and did several peaks and crossed the Theodule, and it was clear that their joint expeditions were a strain upon both of them.
White returned from an unprofitable digression to the matter before him. The first of Benham's early essays was written in an almost boyish hand, it was youthfully amateurish in its nervous disposition to definitions and distinctions, and in the elaborate linking of part to part.
Even the death's head at the feast regretted the long postponement of so spirited a programme, interspersed, as it promised to be, with songs, dances, and "tricks," and winding up with an original poem, "He won't be happy till he gets it." Benham's Indian had got up and gone out. Kaviak had tried to go too, but the door was slammed in his face.
Rathbone-Sanders. The talk lit by Amanda's enthusiasm circled actively round Benham's expedition. It was clear that the idea of giving some years to thinking out one's possible work in the world was for some reason that remained obscure highly irritating to both Mr. Rathbone-Sanders and the Byronic youth.
I have tried to indicate in as few phrases as possible Jerry Benham's essential characteristics, the moral attributes that were his and the shapeliness and strength of his body. I have never set great value on mere physical beauty, which too often reacts unpleasantly upon the character of its owner.
Wrap up, my friend, wrap up. It is chilly outside." He buttoned Benham's coat for him with friendly solicitude, besought him not to get run over a caution rather necessary and started him on his way. Then he sat down again, ordered a cup of coffee, and smoked another cigarette.
The later one had been read to the daughter club of the ENQUIRERS, the SOCIAL ENQUIRERS, in the year after White had gone down, and it was new to him. Both these papers were folded flat and neatly docketed; they were rather yellow and a little dog-eared, and with the outer sheet pencilled over with puzzling or illegible scribblings, Benham's memoranda for his reply.
The worry and disorganization of Benham's life and thoughts increased as the spring advanced. His need in some way to pull things together became overpowering. He began to think of Billy Prothero, more and more did it seem desirable to have a big talk with Billy and place everything that had got disturbed. Benham thought of going to Cambridge for a week of exhaustive evenings.
Miss Benham's eyes followed the Spanish-looking young man as he made his way through the joyous greetings of friends toward his hostess. "So that is Ste. Marie!" she said, still watching him. "The famous Ste. Marie!" She gave a little laugh. "Well, I don't wonder at the reputation he bears for gallantry and that sort of thing. He looks the part, doesn't he?" "Ye-es," admitted her friend.
She had had love; it had been glorious, it was still glorious, but her love-making became now at times almost perfunctory in the contemplation of these approaching delights and splendours and excitements. She knew, indeed, that ideas were at work in Benham's head; but she was a realist. She did not see why ideas should stand in the way of a career.
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