For a while, as women do, we discussed the events of the evening.
Both of us had deep cause for gratification; yet both of us were
strangely subdued.
"Sophy, Peacocks and Ivory is a very wonderful person, isn't he?"
hesitated Alicia, after a long pause. She didn't lift her head; and
the cheek against my hand was warmer than usual.
"Yes," I agreed, quietly, "so wonderful that something never to be
replaced will have gone out of our lives when he goes away, and
doesn't come back any more. For that is what the Nicholas Jelniks
do, my dear."
"Is it?" Again she spoke after a pause. "I wonder! Somehow,
I--Sophy, he belongs here. He's--why, Sophy, he's a part of the
glamour."
"I'm afraid glamour hasn't part nor place in plain folks' lives."
"But we aren't plain folks any more, either, Sophy," she insisted.
"Why--why--_we're_ part of the glamour, too!"
"That is just about half true."
Alicia ignored this. She asked, instead:
"Did you hear what that great blundering doctor said about tinkling
out a tune on a piano?"
I could hear Mr. Jelnik praised by her or doubted by The Author. But
somehow I could not bear any criticism of Doctor Geddes just then.
Pages:
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165