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Updated: June 8, 2025
Bousefield says; but I'm beginning to think, you know," said my companion, "that Ray can't temporise." Fresh from my emotions of the previous twenty-four hours I was scarcely in a position to disagree with her. "He published too much pure thought." "Pure thought?" I cried. "Why, it struck me so often certainly in a due proportion of cases as pure drivel!" "Oh, you're more keyed up than he! Mr.
Bousefield on which he had had not at all to insist; it was the excellent man who insisted was that he should run one of his beautiful stories in the magazine. As to the beauty of his story however Limbert was going to be less admirably straight than as to the beauty of everything else. That was another reason why I mustn't write about his new line: Mr.
Of course I knew what he meant and I entreated him to let me just for curiosity take a peep. But he was firm, he declared he couldn't bear the thought that a woman like me should see him in the depths." "He's only, thank God, in the depths of distress," I replied. "His experiment's nothing worse than a failure." "Then Bousefield is right his circulation won't budge?"
Now Ray draws the line at Minnie; he won't stoop to Minnie; he declines to touch, to look at Minnie. When Mr. Bousefield rather imperiously, I believe made Minnie a sine quâ non of his retention of his post he said something rather violent, told him to go to some unmentionable place and take Minnie with him. That of course put the fat on the fire. They had really a considerable scene."
I shall have to take mamma." I pulled myself together. "What on earth then did Bousefield want? He said he wanted intellectual power." "Yes, but Ray overdid it." "Why, Bousefield said it was a thing he couldn't overdo." "Well, Ray managed: he took Mr. Bousefield too literally.
Bousefield says that of course he wanted things that were suggestive and clever, things that he could point to with pride. But he contends that Ray didn't allow for human weakness. He gave everything in too stiff doses." Sensibly, I fear, to my neighbour I winced at her words; I felt a prick that made me meditate. Then I said: "Is that, by chance, the way he gave me?" Mrs.
Bousefield, had approached him precisely because his name, which was to be on the cover, didn't represent the chatty. The whole thing was to be oh, on fiddling little lines of course a protest against the chatty. Bousefield wanted him to be himself; it was for himself Bousefield had picked him out. Wasn't it beautiful and brave of Bousefield?
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