按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃It is no good；〃 said Rosamund； with real tears in her eyes；
〃one can never go back。〃
〃I can go where I damn please；〃 said Michael； 〃and I can carry
you on my shoulder。〃
〃But really； Michael； really； you must stop and think！〃
cried the girl earnestly。 〃You could carry me off my feet； I dare say；
soul and body； but it may be bitter bad business for all that。
These things done in that romantic rush； like Mr。 Smith's； they
they do attract women； I don't deny it。 As you say； we're all
telling the truth to…night。 They've attracted poor Mary； for one。
They attract me； Michael。 But the cold fact remains：
imprudent marriages do lead to long unhappiness and disappointment
you've got used to your drinks and thingsI shan't be
pretty much longer〃
〃Imprudent marriages！〃 roared Michael。 〃And pray where in earth
or heaven are there any prudent marriages？ Might as well talk
about prudent suicides。 You and I have dawdled round each other
long enough； and are we any safer than Smith and Mary Gray；
who met last night？ You never know a husband till you marry him。
Unhappy！ of course you'll be unhappy。 Who the devil are you
that you shouldn't be unhappy； like the mother that bore you？
Disappointed！ of course we'll be disappointed。 I； for one；
don't expect till I die to be so good a man as I am at this minute
a tower with all the trumpets shouting。〃
〃You see all this；〃 said Rosamund； with a grand sincerity in her solid face；
〃and do you really want to marry me？〃
〃My darling； what else is there to do？〃 reasoned the Irishman。 〃What other
occupation is there for an active man on this earth； except to
marry you？ What's the alternative to marriage； barring sleep？
It's not liberty； Rosamund。 Unless you marry God； as our nuns do in Ireland；
you must marry Manthat is Me。 The only third thing is to marry yourself
yourself； yourself； yourselfthe only companion that is never satisfied
and never satisfactory。〃
〃Michael；〃 said Miss Hunt； in a very soft voice； 〃if you won't talk so much；
I'll marry you。〃
〃It's no time for talking；〃 cried Michael Moon； singing is the only thing。
Can't you find that mandoline of yours； Rosamund？〃
〃Go and fetch it for me；〃 said Rosamund； with crisp and sharp authority。
The lounging Mr。 Moon stood for one split second astonished；
then he shot away across the lawn； as if shod with the feathered
shoes out of the Greek fairy tale。 He cleared three yards
and fifteen daisies at a leap； out of mere bodily levity；
but when he came within a yard or two of the open parlour windows；
his flying feet fell in their old manner like lead；
he twisted round and came back slowly； whistling。 The events
of that enchanted evening were not at an end。
Inside the dark sitting…room of which Moon had caught a glimpse a curious
thing had happened； almost an instant after the intemperate exit
of Rosamund。 It was something which； occurring in that obscure parlour；
seemed to Arthur Inglewood like heaven and earth turning head over heels；
the sea being the ceiling and the stars the floor。 No words can express
how it astonished him； as it astonishes all simple men when it happens。
Yet the stiffest female stoicism seems separated from it only by a sheet of
paper or a sheet of steel。 It indicates no surrender； far less any sympathy。
The most rigid and ruthless woman can begin to cry； just as the most
effeminate man can grow a beard。 It is a separate sexual power；
and proves nothing one way or the other about force of character。
But to young men ignorant of women； like Arthur Inglewood； to see Diana Duke
crying was like seeing a motor…car shedding tears of petrol。
He could never have given （even if his really manly modesty had permitted it）
any vaguest vision of what he did when he saw that portent。 He acted
as men do when a theatre catches firevery differently from how they
would have conceived themselves as acting； whether for better or worse。
He had a faint memory of certain half…stifled explanations； that the heiress
was the one really paying guest； and she would go； and the bailiffs
（in consequence） would come； but after that he knew nothing of his own
conduct except by the protests it evoked。
〃Leave me alone； Mr。 Inglewoodleave me alone； that's not the way to help。〃
〃But I can help you；〃 said Arthur； with grinding certainty；
〃I can； I can； I can。。。〃
〃Why； you said；〃 cried the girl； 〃that you were much weaker than me。〃
〃So I am weaker than you；〃 said Arthur； in a voice that went
vibrating through everything； 〃but not just now。〃
〃Let go my hands！〃 cried Diana。 〃I won't be bullied。〃
In one element he was much stronger than shethe matter of humour。
This leapt up in him suddenly； and he laughed； saying： 〃Well； you are mean。
You know quite well you'll bully me all the rest of my life。
You might allow a man the one minute of his life when he's allowed to bully。〃
It was as extraordinary for him to laugh as for her to cry；
and for the first time since her childhood Diana was entirely
off her guard。
〃Do you mean you want to marry me？〃 she said。
〃Why； there's a cab at the door！〃 cried Inglewood； springing up
with an unconscious energy and bursting open the glass doors
that led into the garden。
As he led her out by the hand they realized somehow for the first time
that the house and garden were on a steep height over London。 And yet；
though they felt the place to be uplifted； they felt it also to be secret：
it was like some round walled garden on the top of one of the
turrets of heaven。
Inglewood looked around dreamily； his brown eyes devouring
all sorts of details with a senseless delight。 He noticed for
the first time that the railings of the gate beyond the garden
bushes were moulded like little spearheads and painted blue。
He noticed that one of the blue spears was loosened in its place；
and hung sideways； and this almost made him laugh。 He thought it
somehow exquisitely harmless and funny that the railing should
be crooked； he thought he should like to know how it happened；
who did it； and how the man was getting on。
When they were gone a few feet across that fiery grass realized
that they were not alone。 Rosamund Hunt and the eccentric
Mr。 Moon； both of whom they had last seen in the blackest
temper of detachment； were standing together on the lawn。
They were standing in quite an ordinary manner； and yet they
looked somehow like people in a book。
〃Oh；〃 said Diana； 〃what lovely air！〃
〃I know；〃 called out Rosamund； with a pleasure so positive
that it rang out like a complaint。 〃It's just like that horrid；
beastly fizzy stuff they gave me that made me feel happy。〃
〃Oh； it isn't like anything but itself！〃 answered Diana； breathing deeply。
〃Why； it's all cold； and yet it feels like fire。〃
〃Balmy is the word we use in Fleet Street；〃
said Mr。 Moon。 〃Balmyespecially on the crumpet。〃
And he fanned himself quite unnecessarily with his straw hat。
They were all full of little leaps and pulsations of objectless
and airy energy。 Diana stirred and stretched her long arms rigidly；
as if crucified； in a sort of excruciating restfulness；
Michael stood still for long intervals； with gathered