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Updated: October 3, 2025
In her eyes I fancied something of the mild expression with which she accompanied her remark, "He is a good man." On either side of the silver frame were small pictures of the boys. Mr. Carville put the two letters in a wire clip and offered me a cigar. "Now you can see for yourself," said he, "where I live." He laughed.
Once again Mr. Carville paused, opened his little brass box and took therefrom his piece of twist. With meticulous precision he pared and pared the required amount for his pipe, and began to roll it between his palms, his eyes fixed reflectively upon the geranium tubs. He had pushed his hat back a little, and above his steady grey-blue eyes there shone a pink unruffled brow.
The effervescent enthusiasm of her nature makes speech indispensable. I do not believe that, during the two-and-a-half-hour recital of Mr. Carville, Miss Fraenkel had any coherent thoughts. More than any other women the American woman avoids the cooler levels of intellectual judgment. In one moment she stands, nude of the commonest knowledge of a person or a thing.
Carville, whatever he might be in the eyes of his wife, his brother, or of the world, was a potential artist. Already I perceived the deliberate attempt of the man to convey the obscure and rare emotion which dominated his intellectual life. Afterwards, in the studio, I suggested that the story of Turner's sugar-plums might throw some light upon Mr. Carville's story.
Carville understands your desire perfectly." "Oh, I know I'm a very simple person " she began. "By no means," I cried. "Mr. Carville would never suggest such a thing. But think for a moment!
We could hear his voice plainly on the staircase. "Hello! Who is it? Oh, good evening, Miss Fraenkel yes, do. We're not going out to-night. How long will you be? Right. Good-bye." "She'll be up in half an hour," he said, going back to his easel. I was by no means certain that Miss Fraenkel would be able to help us to forecast accurately the future instalments of the Carville history.
In the clear transparent afternoon light of a late October day, with the rick behind it, the great vans sprawled out over the hedge, the corrugations of the engine, the thin lines Do you see it? I think very highly of it. An aeroplane has a personality, like Carville. "Well, now you must send me news of your side. I wish I could tell you what he is going to do, but D'Aubigné says that is a secret.
" and lived happy ever after!" added Miss Fraenkel, with radiant unwinking hazel eyes. She went away after tea, to her pew in the gaunt wooden Episcopal Church in Chestnut Street, rapt in a felicitous dream of romanticism. It was nothing to her that Mr. Carville had poured diluted vitriol upon some women who clamoured for the vote, nothing that he had barely deigned to notice her existence.
I know him very well. I suddenly remembered the other side of Carville's manifold nature and asked if I had made a mistake. She said with a laugh, 'Not at all. I understand him perfectly. We are excellent friends when we meet. "'Well, I said, 'if you understand him, it is more than I do, and I told her how Carville would come over to my place and prowl round the studio and watch me at work.
You know he was in the war with the Boers? I said, no I didn't, and he told me that Carville had rushed to South Africa, just as thousands of others had done. He, however, had the devil's own luck; saved an officer's life, a man in the Imperial Yeomanry, named Cholme. Cholme was a pal of Belvoir's at Charterhouse.
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