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"He is far too deep for me; besides, I don't care for poetry, and I was asking you about Mrs. Evers." "Well," I said, with some little severity, "she's a very clever woman." "Clever enough to understand Browning?" "Quite." If this was irony, it was also self-restraint, for it was to Catherine's enthusiasm that I owed my own.
He is cocksure of himself, but of nothing else; that seems to me to be the difference. No one could possibly be more simple in himself. He may have the assurance of a man of fifty, yet it isn't put on; it's neither bumptious nor affected, but just as natural in Mr. Evers as shyness and awkwardness in the ordinary youth one meets. And he has the savoir faire not to ask questions!"
Blanche Evers was a pretty little goose the prettiest of little geese, perhaps, and doubtless the most amiable; but she was not a companion for a peculiarly serious man, who would like his wife to share his view of human responsibilities. What a singular selection what a queer infatuation!
It was impossible not to plume oneself a little on the whole, but the feeling was a superficial one, with deeper and uneasier feelings underneath. Still, I had practically redeemed my impulsive promise to Catherine Evers; her son and this woman once parted, it should be easy to keep them apart, and my knowledge of the woman forbade me to deny the fullest significance to her departure.
Nevertheless, Captain Evers never spoke a friendly word to any one of his officers, and when he had to speak to them, he did so in such a manner of strained politeness and severity, that it was really unpleasant to hear him. During the time I had been on board, Evers and myself had become very intimate, and, I am glad to say, through me, he and his officers became quite friendly with each other.
Vivian does n't approve of me she wishes me in Jamaica. What does she think me capable of?" "And me, now?" Bernard asked. "She likes me least of all, and I, on my side, think she 's so nice." "Can't say I 'm very sweet on her," said the Captain. "She strikes me as feline." Blanche Evers gave a little cry of horror. "Stop, sir, this instant!
But before doing so I ran my eye up and down the pages inscribed by those who had arrived that month. "See anybody you know?" inquired Quinby, who hovered obligingly at my elbow. It was really necessary to be as disingenuous as possible, more especially with a person whose own conversation was evidently quite unguarded. "Yes, by Jove I do! Robin Evers, of all people!" "Do you know him?"
Yet, when she thanked me at the end, either upon an impulse, or because she thought she must, her eyes fell, and again I detected that slight embarrassment which was none the less a revelation, to me, in Catherine Evers, of all women in the world. "We won't speak of that," I said, "if you don't mind. I am not proud of it." Catherine scanned me more narrowly. I knew her better with that look.
Once, at Baden, when Gordon Wright happened to take upon himself to remark that little Miss Evers was bored by her English gallant, Bernard had ventured to observe, in petto, that Gordon knew nothing about it. But all this was of no consequence now, and Bernard steered further and further away from the liability to detect fallacies in his friend.
So I suppose you're going to tell me that you are close buddies with Three-Fingered Brown, Chance, Tinker and Evans I mean, Evers and all of those fellows? "'No, I said. 'I don't know them. But some day I'll be playing with them, or against them, because I'm going to get in the Big Leagues. "'Where are you going now? asked the firemen. "'Back home to Cleveland, I told them.
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