Blogs and book

The interruption came from Dick
Benyon, who had looked in somewhere else and arrived now at the tail of
the evening. Far too eager and engrossed in his great theme to care
whether his appearance were welcome, he dashed up to May, crying out
even before he reached her, "Well, what do you say about him now? Wasn't
he splendid?"
Clearly Dick forgot his earlier apologetic period; for him the moment
was the evening. A cool question from Marchmont, the cooler perhaps for
annoyance, forced Dick into explanations, and he sketched in his summary
fashion the incident which had aroused his enthusiasm and made him look
so confidently for a response from May. Marchmont was unreservedly and
almost scornfully antagonistic.
"Oh, you're too cultivated to live," cried Dick. "Now isn't he too
elegant, May?"
"I'm not the least elegant," said Marchmont, with quiet confidence. "But
I'm--well, I'm what Quisante isn't. So are you, Dick."
"Suppose we are, and by Jove, isn't he what we aren't? I'm primitive, I
suppose. I think hands and brains are better than manners.


Pages:
20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44