He made it
apparent from the first how deeply he had been stirred by
Florence's beauty and how ready he was to offer her his hand; but
as a matter of fact he never did so in set terms, and treated her
more as a comrade than a divinity. He talked of his own devotion
to her as something detached and impersonal, willing as much as
she to laugh over it and treat it lightly. He was never jealous,
never exacting, and seemed to be as happy to share her with others
as when he had her all alone in one of their tete-a-tetes. What he
coveted most of all was her intimacy, her confidence, the frank
expression of her own true self; and in this exchange he was
willing to give as much as he received and often more. Sometimes
she was piqued at his apparent indifference--at his lack of any
stronger feeling for her--seeming to detect in him something of
her own insouciance and coldness.
"You really don't care for me a bit," she said once. "I am only
another form of 'ze sensation'--like going up in a balloon or
riding on the cow-catcher."
"I keep myself well in hand," he returned. "I am not approaching
the terrible age of forty without knowing a little at least about
women and their ways."
"A little!" she exclaimed ironically. "You know enough to write a
book!"
"Zat book has taught me to go very slow," he said. "Were I in my
young manhood I'd come zoop, like that, and carry you off in ze
Far Vest style. But I can never hope to be that again with any
woman; my decreasing hair forbids, if nozing else--but my way is
to make myself indispensable--ze old dog, ze old standby, as you
Americans say--the good old harbour to which you will come at last
when tired of ze storms outside!"
"Your humility is a new trait," said Florence.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47