I don't grudge it 'em,
though sometimes it comes over me--what an amazing concoction! What a
miracle the masculine conception of life is--judges, civil servants,
army, navy, Houses of Parliament, lord mayors--what a world we've made
of it! Look at Hirst now. I assure you," he said, "not a day's passed
since we came here without a discussion as to whether he's to stay on at
Cambridge or to go to the Bar. It's his career--his sacred career. And
if I've heard it twenty times, I'm sure his mother and sister have heard
it five hundred times. Can't you imagine the family conclaves, and the
sister told to run out and feed the rabbits because St. John must have
the school-room to himself--'St. John's working,' 'St. John wants his
tea brought to him.' Don't you know the kind of thing? No wonder that
St. John thinks it a matter of considerable importance. It is too.
He has to earn his living. But St. John's sister--" Hewet puffed in
silence. "No one takes her seriously, poor dear. She feeds the rabbits."
"Yes," said Rachel. "I've fed rabbits for twenty-four years; it seems
odd now." She looked meditative, and Hewet, who had been talking much at
random and instinctively adopting the feminine point of view, saw that
she would now talk about herself, which was what he wanted, for so they
might come to know each other.
She looked back meditatively upon her past life.
Pages:
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304