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Updated: September 27, 2025
Then Miss Van Tuyn came back in a tea gown, looking lovely with her uncovered hair and her shining, excited eyes, and some twenty minutes later Arabian went away. When he had gone Miss Van Tuyn said carelessly: "Fanny, darling, what do you think of him?" Fanny, darling! That was not Beryl's usual way of putting things. Miss Cronin was much shaken.
He could ruin such happiness as she now had. But she could not ruin his happiness. If he gave her up she would be broken, though probably no one would know it. But if she gave him up he would not mind very much, though no doubt his pride would be hurt. Perhaps, even now, she was only a palliative in his life. Beryl Van Tuyn had evidently treated him badly.
His voice was cold and full of detachment; the glance of his blue eyes was hard and unrelenting. She had never seen him like this till to-day. "What are they saying about Miss Van Tuyn?" he added. "Anything amusing?" "No. And in any case it's not the moment to talk nonsense about her, just when she is in deep mourning."
"It is Rose Tree Gardens" she began writing it down "Rose Tree Gardens, Chelsea. It is close to the river." She came away from the writing-table, and gave him the paper with the address on it. "Thank you!" He took the paper, folded it up, drew out a leather case from an inner pocket of his braided black jacket, and consigned the paper to it. Miss Van Tuyn sat down again.
"Only up till a certain age," said Lady Sellingworth. "When we love to sit by the fire, we can do very well without it. But we must be careful to lay up treasure for our old age, mental treasure. We must cultivate tastes and habits which have nothing to do with wildness. A man in Sorrento taught me about that." "A man in Sorrento!" said Miss Van Tuyn, suddenly and sharply on the alert. "Yes.
Arabian went first to stand before the finished portrait of a girl of about eighteen, whose face was already plainly marked blurred, not sharpened by vice. Her youth seemed obscured by a faint fog of vice as if she had projected it, and was slightly withdrawn behind it. Arabian looked at her in silence. Miss Van Tuyn watched him, standing back, not quite level with him.
Thapoulos muttered comments in modern Greek. And the Turkish refugee from Smyrna quoted again and again the words of praise from Pierre Loti, which had made of him a moral wreck, a nuisance to all who came into contact with him, a mere prancing megalomaniac. Miss Van Tuyn did not join in the carnival of praises and condemnations. She had suddenly recovered her mental balance.
Or, perhaps, she had disliked his manner with Miss Van Tuyn, assumed to hide his own sensitiveness. And at that moment he thought of his intercourse with Miss Van Tuyn with exaggeration. It was possible that he had acted badly, had been blatant. But anyhow Lady Sellingworth had been very unkind. She ought to have told him that she was going abroad, to have let him see her before she went.
But the fact is she is so devoted to you that the mere fact of your some day doing what all lovely and charming women are asked to do and usually consent to do but but Miss Cronin seems to I think she wants to say something to you." Miss Van Tuyn looked suddenly rather rebellious.
He stopped abruptly and stood by the river wall. It was a cold and dreary afternoon, menacing and dark. Few people were out in that place. She stood still beside him. "Miss Van Tuyn," he said, looking hard at her with an expression of apparently angry sincerity in his eyes. "This happens. I sit quietly in the Cafe Royal, a public place. A strange man comes up. Never have I seen him before.
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