“I never met a chap who could make so much of what he knows ... pick up ... and bring them out better than the chap could himself.” The four figures sitting in the little room round the lamp. Dr. Hurd talking his gynæcology simply; a relief, a clear clean place in the world of women’s doctors.... Dr. Winchester talking for Dr. von Heber, his brown beard and his frock-coat just for the time he was talking before Dr. von Heber had grasped it all, looking like a part of the professional world. Dr. Wayneflete’s white criminal face his little white mouth controlledly mouthing ... Wayneflete’s brilliant; but he’s not got von Heber’s strength nor his manner. He’s quiet though that chap ... he’d do well over here ... that spreads your thoughts about, painfully and wholesomely. Dr. Hurd spreads his thoughts about quite simply....
The moment was so surprising that I forgot it. I always forget the things that surprise me. She was hating me and hating everything. I must have told her I was going away. When I said you can have Bunnikin back she suddenly grew older than I. “Oh Bunnikin.” Their beloved Bunnikin, as smartly dressed as Mrs. Corrie, in the smart country house way and knowing how to gush and behave.... “Bunnikin’s too simple.” Sybil in her blue cotton overall in the amber light in the Louis Quinze drawing-room, one with me, wanting me because I was not simple.... I thought she hated me all the time because I was not worldly. I should not have known I was not simple unless she had told me; that child.
... Dear Mr. Bowdoin ... and I think I can promise you an audience.... I regret that I cannot come on Thursday and I am sincerely sorry that you should think I desired an audience ... the extraordinary pompous touchiness of men ... why didn’t he see I did not dream of suggesting he should come again just to see me. I’ve forgotten Mr. Bowdoin ... and the Museum ... everything.... I sit here ... playing to hide myself from the Baileys and he is away somewhere making people happy. “They do not care ... they see me, they shout Ah! Don Clement! I amuse them, I laugh, they think I am happy. Voilà tout, mademoiselle.... Il n’y a qu’une chose qui m’amuse.”
CHAPTER VIII
1
A day of blazing heat changed the season suddenly. Flat threatening sunlight travelled round the house. The shadowy sun-blinded flower-scented waiting-room held street-baked patients in its deep armchairs. Some of them were languid. But none of them suffered. They kept their freshness and freedom from exhaustion by living away from toil and grimy heat; in cool clothes, moving swiftly through moving air in carriages and holland-blinded hansoms; having ices in expensive shade; being waited on in the cool depths of west-end houses; their lives disturbed only by occasional dentistry. The lean dark patients were like lizards, lively and darting and active even in the sweltering heat.
Miriam’s sunless room was cool all day. Through her grey window she could see the sunlight pouring over the jutting windows of Mr. Leyton’s small room and reflected in the grimy sheen of the frosted windows of the den. Her day’s work was unreal, as easy as a dream. All about her were open sunlit days that her summer could not bring, and that yet were hers as she moved amongst them; a leaf dropped in the hall, the sight of a summer dress, summer light coming through wide-open windows took her out into them. Summer would never come again in the old way, but it set her free from cold, and let her move about unhampered in the summers of the past. Summer was happiness.... Individual things were straws on the stream of summer happiness.
At tea time in the den there was a darkening hush. It was like a guest, turning everyone’s attention to itself, abolishing differences, setting free unexpected sympathies. Everyone spoke of the coming storm and looked beautiful in speaking. The day’s work was discussed as if in the presence of an unseen guest.
She set out from the house of friends to meet the darkened daylight ... perhaps the sudden tapping of thunder-drops upon her thin blouse. The street was a livid grey, brilliant with hidden sunlight.
The present can be judged by the part of the past it brings up. If the present brings up the happiness of the past, the present is happy.