Part 30 (1/2)
”I feel that.”
”Well, G., perhaps you deserve a treat. The Christmas entertainment I had provided for you in the way of Lao fell rather flat, did it not!”
”One grows tired of souffle.”
”Yes, but do not forget that more substantial food can cause shocking indigestion, unless partaken of with moderation.”
”Heavens, Seraphim! I am no gourmand!”
”Gerard, my dear boy--you are at a stage of hunger, I fear, when intelligence may not guide discretion. You see, Nature is apt to break out after years of artificial repression.”
”We are overcivilised, I admit.”
At that moment, the luncheon-gong sounded and they both rose from their chairs.
Lady Garribardine slipped her fat hand into her nephew's arm, as they went down the stairs.
”G.--I leave the afternoon to you--only don't burn your fingers irretrievably; this young woman is no fool like poor Lao. I look upon her as a rather marvellous product of the twentieth century.”
CHAPTER XVII
After lunch the two in the picture gallery pa.s.sed a perfectly delightful half-hour. Mr. Strobridge had sagacity enough to know that he must stick loyally to art, and indeed after the first few minutes he found he was carried away himself, his listener was so interested, and gave such intelligent response. He almost began to believe that she had really come there to learn something; and not to flirt with himself! Her taste also surprised him, and her want of all pose.
She wrote systematically the reflections he made as to the condition of the canvases.
”It is a great thing to learn how to look at pictures,” she said when they halted before a particularly primitive Madonna. ”Of course I could not have seen anything to admire in this if I had come by myself, and I do not suppose that I shall ever be able really to appreciate it--except the colour--because there is something in me which likes the real so much better than the ideal; I like prose far more than poetry, for instance.”
”Will you let me come up again to the schoolroom and read to you some day?”
”I should like that very much.”
”I would try to make you love poetry; you are endeavouring to convince me that you are a very material young woman, you know!”
”Well, I suppose I am material. I like facts and solid things.”
”And yet you spoke of dreamland once not so very long ago--do you remember!”
”Yes--but you do not know that this dreamland of mine may not be a place where wished-for facts and solid things appear realities, not fancies.”
”You would not tell me if I asked you; I recollect how you eluded me before, and said it was a place which only admitted yourself.”
”Even materialists must have some corner where they can be alone.”
Then he questioned her.--How had she learned all that she knew?--And his interest did not diminish when she gave him a brief outline of the manner of her education.
”It was very difficult sometimes, because I never had anyone with whom to talk, and one grows one-sided _if_ one has only oneself to argue with, and I don't really know how to p.r.o.nounce numbers of words. I should be grateful if you would tell me every time I make a mistake.”
”It is quite evident that we must ratify this compact that I shall be your tutor, though I am to get no wages--even love!”