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"I don't think so at all, but I can easily ask him." Mrs. Brook's head inclined to the chimney and her eyes to the window. "Easily?" Nanda looked for a moment mystified by her mother's insistence. "I can at any rate perfectly try it." "Remembering even that mamma would never have pushed so?" Nanda's face seemed to concede even that condition.
His fellow visitor barely hesitated. "It would be his own if he were free and it would be Lord Petherton's FOR him. I mean by his being free Nanda's becoming definitely lost to him. Then it would be impossible for Mrs. Brook to continue to persuade him, as she does now, that by a waiting game he'll come to his chance. His chance will cease to exist, and he wants so, poor darling, to marry.
It has cropped up in a social order where individual appreciations of propriety have not been formally allowed for, in spite of their having very often quite rudely and violently and insolently, rather of course than insidiously, flourished; so that as the matter stands, rightly or wrongly, Nanda's retarded, but eventually none the less real, incorporation means virtually Nanda's exposure.
When the women arrive they marvel at Krishna's beauty. 'He is Nanda's son, they say. 'We heard his name and everything else was driven from our minds. Let us gaze on this darling object of our lives. O Krishna, it is due to you that we have seen you and thus got rid of all our sins. Those stupid Brahmans, our husbands, mistook you for a mere man. But you are God.
Brook, so nearly and engaging so your private and most sacred sentiments. What are we playing with, after all, but the idea of Nanda's happiness?" "Oh I'm not playing!" Mrs. Brook declared with a little rattle of emotion. "She's not playing" Mr. Mitchett gravely confirmed it.
The speech had for Nanda's companion, however, no effect of pleasantry or irony, and it was a mark of the special intercourse of these good friends that though they showed each other, in manner and tone, such sustained consideration as might almost have given it the stamp of diplomacy, there was yet in it also something of that economy of expression which is the result of a common experience.
Elle l'a lien voulu, and if you're married you're married; it's the smoke or call it the soot! of the fire. You know, yourself," she roundly pursued, "that Nanda's situation appals you." "Oh 'appals'!" he restrictively murmured. It even tried a little his companion's patience. "There you are, you English you'll never face your own music.
But what at least is certainly right is for one not to pretend anything else. There I am for you at any rate. Now the beauty of Aggie is that she knows nothing but absolutely, utterly: not the least little tittle of anything." It was barely visible that Mitchy hesitated, and he spoke quite gravely. "Have you tried her?" "Oh yes. And Tishy has." His gravity had been less than Nanda's.
"You're bad at dodging. Nanda's desire is inevitably to stop off for herself every question of any one but Vanderbank. If she wants me to succeed in arranging with Mr. Mitchett can you ask for a plainer sign of her private predicament? But you've signs enough, I see" she caught herself up: "we may take them all for granted.
"If Nanda's so like her, WAS she so exquisite?" "Oh yes; every one was agreed about that." Mr. Longdon kept his eyes on the face, trying a little, Vanderbank even thought, to conceal his own. "She was one of the greatest beauties of her day." "Then IS Nanda so like her?" Vanderbank persisted, amused at his friend's transparency. "Extraordinarily. Her mother told me all about her."
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