FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   >>  
see not the least reason for supposing that his feelings will change." "And would you advise her to marry the other--A?" "Well, on the whole, I should. A is a good fellow (I think we made A a good fellow), he is a suitable match, his love for her is true and genuine--" "It's tremendous!" "Yes--and--er--extreme. She likes him. There is every reason to hope that her liking will develop into a sufficiently deep and stable affection. She will get rid of her folly about B, and make A a good wife. Yes, Miss May, if I were the author of your novel I should make her marry A, and I should call that a happy ending." A silence followed. It was broken by the philosopher. "Is that all you wanted my opinion about, Miss May?" he asked, with his finger between the leaves of the treatise on ontology. "Yes, I think so. I hope I haven't bored you?" "I've enjoyed the discussion extremely. I had no idea that novels raised points of such psychological interest. I must find time to read one." The girl had shifted her position till, instead of her full face, her profile was turned toward him. Looking away toward the paddock that lay brilliant in sunshine on the skirts of the apple orchard, she asked in low slow tones, twisting her hands in her lap: "Don't you think that perhaps if B found out afterward-when she had married A, you know--that she had cared for him so very, very much, he might be a little sorry?" "If he were a gentleman he would regret it deeply." "I mean--sorry on his own account; that--that he had thrown away all that, you know?" The philosopher looked meditative. "I think," he pronounced, "that it is very possible he would. I can well imagine it." "He might never find anybody to love him like that again," she said, gazing on the gleaming paddock. "He probably would not," agreed the philosopher. "And--and most people like being loved, don't they?" "To crave for love is an almost universal instinct, Miss May." "Yes, almost," she said, with a dreary little smile. "You see, he'll get old, and-and have no one to look after him." "He will." "And no home." "Well, in a sense, none," corrected the philosopher, smiling. "But really you'll frighten me. I'm a bachelor myself, you know, Miss May." "Yes," she whispered, just audibly. "And all your terrors are before me." "Well, unless--" "Oh, we needn't have that 'unless'," laughed the philosopher, cheerfully. "There's no 'unle
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   >>  



Top keywords:
philosopher
 

paddock

 

reason

 

fellow

 

advise

 
imagine
 
change
 

agreed

 
gleaming
 

gazing


feelings

 

thrown

 
married
 

gentleman

 
regret
 

people

 
looked
 
meditative
 

account

 

deeply


pronounced

 

bachelor

 

whispered

 

frighten

 

smiling

 

audibly

 

laughed

 

cheerfully

 

terrors

 

corrected


supposing

 
universal
 

instinct

 

dreary

 

leaves

 
treatise
 

ontology

 
finger
 

opinion

 
novels

extreme
 

extremely

 
enjoyed
 
discussion
 

wanted

 

sufficiently

 
author
 

stable

 
affection
 

broken