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Updated: May 11, 2025
His thought gave him an index of her ... Rachel Laskin, curious girl ... makes me talk well ... appreciative ... unusual eyes. They walked together down the avenue. Dorn felt a return of interest in himself. Introspection bored him. His insincerity made self thought meaningless. Listeners, however, revived him.
"Miss Laskin," Dorn answered, delighted to protract the conversation, "is a vivid sort of imbecile suffering from vacuous complexities. An hour alone in a room with her would drive even a philosopher to madness. She's one of the kind of people given to inappropriate silences. She reminds me of an emotion undergoing a major operation. Good Lord, Anna, don't tell me you're jealous of her?"
"Miss Laskin," he replied, concealing his eagerness for the topic with a drawl, "is partially insane." "Yes, you like insane people, though. I can always tell when you like people. You never pay any attention to them then, but sort of come hanging around me as if you were apologizing to yourself for liking them, and doing penance. Or you call them names."
"Would you kindly tell me what those small vessels are below there just setting out to sea?" he asked. "Luggers, are they? Thank you. And where are they sailing to? Do you know?" "Away down-long, south'ard o' the Scillies mostly, arter mackerl. Theer's a power o' mackerl bein' catched just now thousands an' thousands but some o' they booats be laskin' that's just fishin' off shore."
But Mary was a literal-minded monkey and thought she was referring to quotations from books superior to the ones she used. "Oh, is that so?" said Mary. Charlie, also literal-minded and still after the foot, echoed Rachel, "You bet your life it is." "And I suppose you know all about them, Miss Laskin." Very sarcastic.
In a corner Rachel listened to Frank Brander. "We've got quite a promising outfit here, Miss Laskin. Why don't you come around and help with the drops or something? The more the merrier. We're putting on a thing by Chekov next week and a strong thing by Elvenah Jack. Lives down the street. Know her? Oh, it isn't much." He smiled good-naturedly at the miniature theater. "But it's fun.
Coolly, amazedly, Dorn thought, "What preposterous thing makes it possible for this man to talk of Rachel as if she were a reality ... like the people in the café? To him she's like the people in the café. He knows her like the people in the café." He answered carelessly, "Oh, yes; Miss Laskin. I remember her well. That reminds me: you don't happen to have her address?
Mary wanted to run away, but couldn't. Brander finally said shortly, "Hello, you!" His eyes blazed for an instant and then grew angry. "Come on, Miss Laskin." He jerked her and she followed. In the wings half hidden from the group that crowded the tiny stage Brander said, "Do you know that girl?" Rachel nodded. "She's no good," he grinned. "I like women one thing or the other. She's both.
"Speaking of art, Dorn, we've found a new artist, a wonder. She's going to do some things for The Cry. I got her interested. I must tell Meredith about her. Maybe you know her Rachel Laskin. One of her things is coming out in the next issue. I'll send you a copy."
Tesla the blundering idiot "I was telling Dorn of a new artist I've found, Eddie. Rachel Laskin, a sort of Blake and Beardsley and something else. Thin lines, screechy things. You'll like them." "Oh, yes, I always like them," Meredith smiled. And Anna, "Oh, I know Rachel Laskin well. We're old friends. She's a charming, wonderful girl. I liked her so much. Where is she?" "In New York."
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