The Education of Eric Lane
ut fear of being late for Mrs. Shelley's dinner. Two days of his holiday had already slipped away, and
r; which disposed of Barbara.... What she needed was some one who would pull her up, steady her, master her.... Unfortunately-for her-he could not
genius; there was Mrs. Manisty, who claimed young poets as of right and helped them to parturition in the pages of the Utopia Review; there was a flamboyant, short-haired young woman who had launched on the world a war-emergency code of sex-morals under the guise of a novel; there were three bashful aliens suspected of being pianists and one self-assured journalist who told Mrs. Shelley with suitable hearti
these people would ever cringe before the face of success and disparage behind its back, as they had always done; they made a suburb and called it a school. For ten years Eric had listened to their theories and discoveries; after ten years he was still waiting for
arbara
t, interrupted in his discourse on "the aristocracy of illiterates," watched Barbara's entry and posed himself for being introduced. She looked round with slow assuranc
nd I have been rehearsing our play-the new one, I mean, that I'm taking in hand-and I had such a lot to do when I got home." She displayed adequate patience, while Mrs
e hearts of my family by going
you'll find a practicable train; I'm going to C
of sleeping in the
ractices and habits and rules rather tiresome; I must educate
what they liked; Barbara was accordingly set next to an art editor, who tried to wheedle from her an article on "Eastern Decoration in Western Houses," while Eric found himself sandwiched without hope of escape b
uched his hand on her way to the door and turned, with patent consciousness that she was being watched, to give him a parting smile. Mrs. Manisty also turned, befor
ait-painter. By sitting next to the journalist, Eric saved himself the effort of talking and recuperated at leisure after the exhausting boredom of dinner. He had looked forward to seeing Barbara again, feeling disappointment that she was not in the big shadowy drawing-room when he arrived-(but she would come a
ll-humoured train of thought by introdu
g out in the spring and I'm wanting a girl's head for the frontispiece. Well, since I saw Lady Barbara to-night, there's only one head that
to hide hi
"She's fairly well-known, of co
explained vaguely. "I was wondering now, would ye sound her? Pr
hen we get upstai
the silence overhead, and a
sn't it? Where Madame Butterfly hears that Pinkerton's ship has been sighted. I never think Butterfly's as
ld up h
want to h
day, we'
smoke arisin
far h
the ship
trim wh
arbour, thunders
? He is
to meet him.
f the hillock a
time, but
long
the cro
s comin
the distance, cl
guess wh
e's reache
uess what
Butterfly' fro
out ans
f quietly
him, and a bit
ting: and then,
all, he w
f mine, dear litt
to call me when
and turned to his neighbour with an apology, as the voice
go upstairs? I should like some mo
ee low standard lamps which threw the upper half of the room into shadow. He stood for several moments with lips parted and shini
that you?"
lcoming him with a chastened smile a
e a craftsman, but I believe you're an artist.... I'm full of a
d, wistfully
a pity?"
thinking; that
mily. "I was wondering if you'd sing again
ring you up
with exa
y needs a sop. Was
m wearily, and he saw un
r that or talking to Yolande Manisty, and I
med of his ras
looked at her, and smiled to himself. "No, I'm going to be very self-sacrificin
ot half-pas
'you think I can't see that you
t!" The wistfulness left her eyes, and she smiled mischievously. "In moments of emotion how all our habits and practice
ry, Lady
se, but she pu
change in your voice when you forgot to be inhuman. I prefer 'dear child' t
ible with you. I-I don't understand
were dressing for dinner; I've a sort of feeling that it's not
akes any great difference in yo
so good for me. It isn't as if I'd laughed so very much lately.... I will
g, and her eyes had ag
e habit' of being hard on peop
ppantly over her shoulder, as she went to bid Mrs. Shel
g into the practice of lettin