Prothero
hesitated; the lady expressed doubts.
On closer acquaintance her resemblance to Amanda diminished. It was
chiefly a similarity of complexion. She had a more delicate face
than Amanda, and its youthful brightness was deadened; she had none
of Amanda's glow, and she spoke her mother's language with a pretty
halting limp that was very different from Amanda's clear decisions.
She put her case compactly.
"I would not DO in Cambridge," she said with an infinitesimal glance
at Prothero.
"Mr. Benham," she said, and her manner had the gravity of a woman of
affairs, "now do you see me in Cambridge? Now do you see me? Kept
outside the walls? In a little DATCHA? With no occupation? Just
to amuse him."
And on another occasion when Prothero was not with her she achieved
still completer lucidity.
"I would come if I thought he wanted me to come," she said. "But
you see if I came he would not want me to come. Because then he
would have me and so he wouldn't want me. He would just have the
trouble. And I am not sure if I should be happy in Cambridge.
Pages:
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419