Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 4, 2025
Then he lit the tall lamp of corroded bronze, with its heavy silk shade, that stood on a table in the angle of the room, drew the curtains, put a fresh log upon the fire, held the tiny silver alcohol burner to Corthell while the latter lighted a fresh cigarette, and then with a murmured "Good-night, sir," went out, closing the door with the precaution of a depredator.
On the day after her evening with her husband in the art gallery, the evening when Gretry had broken in upon them like a courier from the front, Laura had risen from her bed to look out upon a world suddenly empty. Corthell she had sent from her forever. Jadwin was once more snatched from her side. Where, now, was she to turn?
It was set for a garden; at the back and in the distance a chateau; on the left a bower, and on the right a pavilion. Before the footlights, a famous contralto, dressed as a boy, was bowing to the audience, her arms full of flowers. "Too bad," whispered Corthell to Laura, as they followed the others down the side-aisle to the box.
She pulled the sheets of note paper towards her and wrote a short letter, directing the envelope to Sheldon Corthell, The Fine Arts Building, Michigan Avenue. "Call a messenger," she said to the servant who answered her ring, "and have him take or send him in here when he comes."
Do you suppose Mary, or Martha, or Maggie, or whatever her name is, could rustle me a good strong cup of tea. "Haven't you dined, Curtis?" cried Laura. "Oh, I had a stand-up lunch somewhere with Sam. But we were both so excited we might as well have eaten sawdust. Heigho, I sure am tired. It takes it out of you, Mr. Corthell, to make five hundred thousand in about ten hours."
They sat down on either side of the fireplace in the lofty apartment, with its sombre hangings of wine-coloured brocade and thick, muffling rugs, and for upwards of three-quarters of an hour Corthell interested her with his description of his life in the cathedral towns of northern Italy. But at the end of that time dinner was announced. "Has Mr. Jadwin come in yet?" Laura asked of the servant.
The artist, leaning forward in his chair, looked with vague eyes across the room. And no interval of time since his return, no words that had ever passed between them, had been so fraught with significance, so potent in drawing them together as this brief, wordless moment. At last Corthell turned towards her. "You must not think," he murmured, "that your life is without love now.
Now she was just a woman again, with all a woman's limitations, and her relations with Corthell could never be so she realised any other than sex-relations. With Jadwin somehow it had been different. She had felt his manhood more than her womanhood, her sex side. And between them it was more a give-and-take affair, more equality, more companionship.
Cressler her appreciation and enjoyment. Corthell saw them to the carriage, and getting in after them shut the door behind him. They departed. Laura sank back in the cool gloom of the carriage's interior redolent of damp leather and upholstery. "What an evening! What an evening!" she murmured. Each time they were enthusiastic. Yes, yes, that was the air. Wasn't it pretty, wasn't it beautiful?
"Oh, why limit one's absorption to business?" replied Corthell, sipping his wine. "Is it right for one to be absorbed 'altogether' in anything even in art, even in religion?" "Oh, religion, I don't know," she protested. "Isn't that certain contribution," he hazarded, "which we make to the general welfare, over and above our own individual work, isn't that the essential?
Word Of The Day
Others Looking