If his mother should ever
get back into society perhaps he would take her up. Rose Tramore had
decided to do what she could to bring this consummation about; and
strangely enough--so mixed were her superstitions and her heresies--a
large part of her motive lay in the value she attached to such a
consecration.
Of her mother intrinsically she thought very little now, and if her
eyes were fixed on a special achievement it was much more for the
sake of that achievement and to satisfy a latent energy that was in
her than because her heart was wrung by this sufferer. Her heart had
not been wrung at all, though she had quite held it out for the
experience. Her purpose was a pious game, but it was still
essentially a game. Among the ideas I have mentioned she had her
idea of triumph. She had caught the inevitable note, the pitch, on
her very first visit to Chester Square. She had arrived there in
intense excitement, and her excitement was left on her hands in a
manner that reminded her of a difficult air she had once heard sung
at the opera when no one applauded the performer. That flatness had
made her sick, and so did this, in another way. A part of her
agitation proceeded from the fact that her aunt Julia had told her,
in the manner of a burst of confidence, something she was not to
repeat, that she was in appearance the very image of the lady in
Chester Square.
Pages:
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33