"I
shouldn't want those people to think you were not up in the convenances."
They both knew that she meant the reticent father and daughter, and March
flung out, "I shouldn't want them to think you weren't. There's such a
thing as overdoing."
She attacked him at another point. "What has annoyed you? What else have
you been doing?"
"Nothing. I've been reading most of the afternoon."
"The Maiden Knight?"
This was the book which nearly everybody had brought on board. It was
just out, and had caught an instant favor, which swelled later to a tidal
wave. It depicted a heroic girl in every trying circumstance of mediaeval
life, and gratified the perennial passion of both sexes for historical
romance, while it flattered woman's instinct of superiority by the
celebration of her unintermitted triumphs, ending in a preposterous and
wholly superfluous self-sacrifice.
March laughed for pleasure in her guess, and she pursued, "I suppose you
didn't waste time looking if anybody had brought the last copy of 'Every
Other Week'?"
"Yes, I did; and I found the one you had left in your steamer chair--for
advertising purposes, probably."
"Mr. Burnamy has another," she said. "I saw it sticking out of his pocket
this morning.
Pages:
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088