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Updated: May 4, 2025
His invitations had been universally accepted, which was the more encouraging as they had been issued against Hirst's advice to people who were very dull, not at all suited to each other, and sure not to come. "Undoubtedly," he said, as he twirled and untwirled a note signed Helen Ambrose, "the gifts needed to make a great commander have been absurdly overrated.
I hewed sixty steps upon this slope, and each step had cost a minute, by Hirst's watch. The Mur de la Côte was still before us, and on this the guide-books informed us two or three hundred steps were sometimes found necessary. If sixty steps cost an hour, what would be the cost of two hundred?
"It's for you to say," he replied. "I'm interested, I think." He still felt numb all over and as if she was much too close to him. "Any one can be interested!" she cried impatiently. "Your friend Mr. Hirst's interested, I daresay however, I do believe in you. You look as if you'd got a nice sister, somehow."
I don't see myself why you shouldn't understand only I suppose you've led an absurd life until now you've just walked in a crocodile, I suppose, with your hair down your back." The music was again beginning. Hirst's eye wandered about the room in search of Mrs. Ambrose. With the best will in the world he was conscious that they were not getting on well together.
The description of Hirst's way of life interested Rachel so much that she almost forgot her private grudge against him, and her respect revived. "They are really very clever then?" she asked. "Of course they are. So far as brains go I think it's true what he said the other day; they're the cleverest people in England. But you ought to take him in hand," he added.
Finally, Hirst's odious words flicked his mind like a whip, and he remembered that he had left her talking to Hirst. She was at this moment talking to him, and it might be true, as he said, that she was in love with him.
He went over all the evidence for this supposition her sudden interest in Hirst's writing, her way of quoting his opinions respectfully, or with only half a laugh; her very nickname for him, "the great Man," might have some serious meaning in it. Supposing that there were an understanding between them, what would it mean to him? "Damn it all!" he demanded, "am I in love with her?"
Their eyes, concentrated upon the bank, were full of the same green reflections, and their lips were slightly pressed together as though the sights they were passing gave rise to thoughts, save that Hirst's lips moved intermittently as half consciously he sought rhymes for God. Whatever the thoughts of the others, no one said anything for a considerable space.
Hirst's eyelashes, that I think they both felt it a welcome interruption when a loud tramping was suddenly heard on the stairs, and four children burst tumultuously into the room: a girl of eleven, two boys of nine and seven, and a younger girl of about five years old. "We ran all the way home from school," they cried. "We didn't wait a single minute to talk to anybody.
She could not say that she found the vision of herself walking in a crocodile with her hair down her back peculiarly unjust and horrible, nor could she explain why Hirst's assumption of the superiority of his nature and experience had seemed to her not only galling but terrible as if a gate had clanged in her face.
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