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Updated: June 12, 2025
Maud wondered, but looking at Voyt, "They're shown often, no doubt, as paying for their badness. But are they shown as paying for their romance?" "My dear lady," said Voyt, "their romance is their badness. There isn't any other. It's a hard law, if you will, and a strange, but goodness has to go without that luxury. Isn't to BE good just exactly, all round, to go without?"
Blessingbourne conceded without heeding it; "but that's the way we express ourselves in my part of the country." "I only alluded," said Voyt, "to the tremendous conscience of your sex. It's more than mine can keep up with. You take everything too hard. But if you can't read the novel of British and American manufacture, heaven knows I'm at one with you.
Blessingbourne and with an air of deference scarce supported perhaps by its sketchiness kept her deep eyes on this definition. "But sometimes we flounder out." It immediately touched in Colonel Voyt the spring of a genial derision. "That's just where I expected YOU would! One always sees it come." "He has, you notice," Mrs.
"They've been in long enough to point a moral. That is to point ours!" With which, and as if a sudden flush of warmer light had moved him, Colonel Voyt got up. The veil of the storm had parted over a great red sunset. Mrs. Dyott also was on her feet, and they stood before his charming antagonist, who, with eyes lowered and a somewhat fixed smile, had not moved.
Dyott softly sounded. "Oh but it IS one; you can make it out," Voyt promptly declared. "They do what they feel, and they feel more things than we. They strike so many more notes, and with so different a hand. When it comes to any account of a relation say between a man and a woman I mean an intimate or a curious or a suggestive one where are we compared to them?
"Yes, when I read a novel I mostly read a French one," she had said to Voyt in answer to a question about her usual practice; "for I seem with it to get hold more of the real thing to get more life for my money. Only I'm not so infatuated with them but that sometimes for months and months on end I don't read any fiction at all." The two books were now together beside them.
"That one doesn't for a moment deny. But can they be 'good' and interesting?" "That must be Maud's subject!" Mrs. Dyott interposed. "To show a woman who IS. I'm afraid, my dear," she continued, "you could only show yourself." "You'd show then the most beautiful specimen conceivable" and Voyt addressed himself to Maud.
Maud spoke then as if moved only by the elements. "Do you expect him through all this?" Mrs. Dyott just waited, and it had the effect, indescribably, of making everything that had gone before seem to have led up to the question. This effect was even deepened by the way she then said "Whom do you mean?" "Why I thought you mentioned at luncheon that Colonel Voyt was to walk over. Surely he can't."
The consequence of his Sunday letters had been his taking, that day, the 4.15. Mrs. Voyt had gone back on Thursday, and he now, to settle on the spot the question of a piece of work begun at his place, had rushed down for a few hours in anticipation of the usual collective move for the week's end.
Blessingbourne's entrance on the previous Saturday had arrested her answer. Had that lady the idea of anything between them? "No. I'm sure. There's one idea she has got," Mrs. Dyott went on; "but it's quite different and not so very wonderful." "What then is it?" "Well, that she's herself in love." Voyt showed his interest. "You mean she told you?" "I got it out of her." He showed his amusement.
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