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Bassington will certainly never grow out of his present stage." "Now you are talking in the language of Peter Pan," said the form- master. "I am not thinking in the manner of Peter Pan," said the other. "With all reverence for the author of that masterpiece I should say he had a wonderful and tender insight into the child mind and knew nothing whatever about boys.
There are just a few, and Bassington is one of them, who are Nature's highly finished product when they are in the schoolboy stage, and we, who are supposed to be moulding raw material, are quite helpless when we come in contact with them." "But what happens to them when they grow up?" "They never do grow up," said the housemaster; "that is their tragedy.
In the lonely hour of early afternoon, when the workers had gone back to their work, and the loiterers were scarcely yet gathered again, Francesca Bassington made her way restlessly along the stretches of gravelled walk that bordered the ornamental water. The overmastering unhappiness that filled her heart and stifled her thinking powers found answering echo in her surroundings.
So many of the things that make for fretfulness, disappointment and discouragement in a woman's life were removed from her path that she might well have been considered the fortunate Miss Greech, or later, lucky Francesca Bassington.
"I think I could tame young Bassington if I had your opportunities," a form-master once remarked to a colleague whose House had the embarrassing distinction of numbering Comus among its inmates. "Heaven forbid that I should try," replied the housemaster. "But why?" asked the reformer.
Francesca Bassington sat in the drawing-room of her house in Blue Street, W., regaling herself and her estimable brother Henry with China tea and small cress sandwiches. The meal was of that elegant proportion which, while ministering sympathetically to the desires of the moment, is happily reminiscent of a satisfactory luncheon and blessedly expectant of an elaborate dinner to come.
In her younger days Francesca had been known as the beautiful Miss Greech; at forty, although much of the original beauty remained, she was just dear Francesca Bassington. No one would have dreamed of calling her sweet, but a good many people who scarcely knew her were punctilious about putting in the "dear."
Goldbrook afterwards to her sister, "is not to attempt too much." "You mean ?" "Courtenay is content to try and keep one person amused and happy, and he thoroughly succeeds." "I certainly don't think Elaine is going to be very happy," said her sister, "but at least Courtenay saved her from making the greatest mistake she could have made marrying that young Bassington." "He has also," said Mrs.
And that other life, in which he once moved with such confident sense of his own necessary participation in it, how completely he had passed out of it. Amid all its laughing throngs, its card parties and race- meetings and country-house gatherings, he was just a mere name, remembered or forgotten, Comus Bassington, the boy who went away.
"You evidently think that the 'Boy who would not grow up' must have been written by a 'grown-up who could never have been a boy. Perhaps that is the meaning of the 'Never- never Land. I daresay you're right in your criticism, but I don't agree with you about Bassington.
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