These signs of deep communion
multiplied as the days elapsed, and there was none of which Isabel was
more sensible than of her companion's preference for making Miss
Archer herself a topic. Though she referred frequently to the
incidents of her own career she never lingered upon them; she was as
little of a gross egotist as she was of a flat gossip.
"I'm old and stale and faded," she said more than once; "I'm of no
more interest than last week's newspaper. You're young and fresh and
of to-day; you've the great thing- you've actuality. I once had it- we
all have it for an hour. You, however, will have it for longer. Let us
talk about you then; you can say nothing I shall not care to hear.
It's a sign that I'm growing old- that I like to talk with younger
people. I think it's a very pretty compensation. If we can't have
youth within us we can have it outside, and I really think we see it
and feel it better that way. Of course we must be in sympathy with it-
that I shall always be. I don't know that I shall ever be
ill-natured with old people- I hope not; there are certainly some
old people I adore. But I shall never be anything but abject with
the young; they touch me and appeal to me too much.
Pages:
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341