Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 23, 2025
"They say her mother was like that. Poor old Johnny! D'you think I've got a chance, Mr. Lennan? I don't mean now, this minute; I know she's too young." Lennan forced himself to answer. "I dare say, my dear fellow, I dare say. Have you talked with my wife?" Oliver shook his head. "She's so good I don't think she'd quite understand my sort of feeling." A queer little smile came up on Lennan's lips.
Then, quite lost in excitement, she clutched Lennan's arm; and her gasp, when Carmen at last fell dead, made all their neighbours jump. Her emotion was far more moving than that on the stage; he wanted badly to stroke, and comfort her and say: "There, there, my dear, it's only make-believe!"
They crossed to the railings of the Square's dark garden, where nobody was passing. And with every step Lennan's humiliation grew. There was something false and undignified in walking with this young man who had once treated him as a father confessor to his love for Nell. And suddenly he perceived that they had made a complete circuit of the Square garden without speaking a single word.
Was it, perhaps, just that little lack in her that lack of poignancy, which had prevented her from becoming a mother? An only child herself, she had no nieces or nephews; Cicely's boys had always been at school, and now were out in the world. Yes, a new sensation, and one in which Lennan's restless feelings seemed to merge and vanish.
If those grey, mesmeric eyes of hers followed him about, they did so frankly, unconsciously. There was no minx in her, so far. An hour went by, and Dromore did not come. And the loneliness of this young creature in her incongruous abode began telling on Lennan's equanimity. What did she do in the evenings? "Sometimes I go to the theatre with Dad, generally I stay at home." "And then?" "Oh!
Awfully glad to meet you, old chap!" Here was the past indeed, long vanished in feeling and thought and all; and Lennan's head buzzed, trying to find some common interest with this hunting, racing man-about-town.
Then, with her eyes still on his face, she went on quickly: "Only we won't talk about that now, will we? It's too cosy. I AM nice and tired. Do smoke!" But Lennan's fingers trembled so that he could hardly light that cigarette. And, watching them, she said: "Please give me one. Dad doesn't like my smoking." The virtue of Johnny Dromore! Yes! It would always be by proxy!
Sixteen of them there were, wheeling and chasing never still! When, walking from Lennan's studio, Olive reentered her dark little hall, she approached its alcove and glanced first at the hat-stand. They were all there the silk hat, the bowler, the straw! So he was in!
D'you know my daughter?" A hand took Lennan's, a hand that seemed to waver between the aplomb of a woman of the world, and a child's impulsive warmth. And a voice, young, clipped, clear, said: "How d'you do? She's rather sweet, isn't she my kitten?" Then Dromore turned the light up.
He had but to close his eyes, and she was there. A ring at the bell, repeated several times, roused him at last to go to the door. His caller was Robert Cramier. And at sight of him, all Lennan's lethargy gave place to a steely feeling. What had brought him here? Had he been spying on his wife? The old longing for physical combat came over him.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking