"
She was not altogether correct.
She was not altogether correct.
Kipling - Poems
"And I never saw it.
Was it like?
"
"Thank you," said Dick under his breath to the red-haired girl, and he
removed himself swiftly.
"How that man hates me! " said the girl. "And how he loves you, Maisie! "
"What nonsense? I knew Dick's very fond of me, but he had his work to
do, and I have mine. "
"Yes, he is fond of you, and I think he knows there is something in
impressionism, after all. Maisie, can't you see? "
"See? See what? "
"Nothing; only, I know that if I could get any man to look at me as that
man looks at you, I'd--I don't know what I'd do. But he hates me. Oh,
how he hates me!
"
She was not altogether correct. Dick's hatred was tempered with
gratitude for a few moments, and then he forgot the girl entirely. Only
the sense of shame remained, and he was nursing it across the Park
in the fog. "There'll be an explosion one of these days," he said
wrathfully. "But it isn't Maisie's fault; she's right, quite right, as
far as she knows, and I can't blame her. This business has been going
on for three months nearly. Three months! --and it cost me ten years"
knocking about to get at the notion, the merest raw notion, of my
work. That's true; but then I didn't have pins, drawing-pins, and
palette-knives, stuck into me every Sunday.
"Oh, my little darling, if ever I break you, somebody will have a very
bad time of it. No, she won't. I'd be as big a fool about her as I
am now. I'll poison that red-haired girl on my wedding-day,--she's
unwholesome,--and now I'll pass on these present bad times to Torp. "
Torpenhow had been moved to lecture Dick more than once lately on the
sin of levity, and Dick and listened and replied not a word. In the
weeks between the first few Sundays of his discipline he had flung
himself savagely into his work, resolved that Maisie should at least
know the full stretch of his powers. Then he had taught Maisie that she
must not pay the least attention to any work outside her own, and
Maisie had obeyed him all too well.
"Thank you," said Dick under his breath to the red-haired girl, and he
removed himself swiftly.
"How that man hates me! " said the girl. "And how he loves you, Maisie! "
"What nonsense? I knew Dick's very fond of me, but he had his work to
do, and I have mine. "
"Yes, he is fond of you, and I think he knows there is something in
impressionism, after all. Maisie, can't you see? "
"See? See what? "
"Nothing; only, I know that if I could get any man to look at me as that
man looks at you, I'd--I don't know what I'd do. But he hates me. Oh,
how he hates me!
"
She was not altogether correct. Dick's hatred was tempered with
gratitude for a few moments, and then he forgot the girl entirely. Only
the sense of shame remained, and he was nursing it across the Park
in the fog. "There'll be an explosion one of these days," he said
wrathfully. "But it isn't Maisie's fault; she's right, quite right, as
far as she knows, and I can't blame her. This business has been going
on for three months nearly. Three months! --and it cost me ten years"
knocking about to get at the notion, the merest raw notion, of my
work. That's true; but then I didn't have pins, drawing-pins, and
palette-knives, stuck into me every Sunday.
"Oh, my little darling, if ever I break you, somebody will have a very
bad time of it. No, she won't. I'd be as big a fool about her as I
am now. I'll poison that red-haired girl on my wedding-day,--she's
unwholesome,--and now I'll pass on these present bad times to Torp. "
Torpenhow had been moved to lecture Dick more than once lately on the
sin of levity, and Dick and listened and replied not a word. In the
weeks between the first few Sundays of his discipline he had flung
himself savagely into his work, resolved that Maisie should at least
know the full stretch of his powers. Then he had taught Maisie that she
must not pay the least attention to any work outside her own, and
Maisie had obeyed him all too well.
