That fortnight had the shape of an arranged story, something playing itself out, with scenes set and timed to come in in the right place. Upset by that one little scene that had come in of itself....
The clear days after the two men had gone back to town. The long talks kept undisturbed.... All the long history of Gissing....
Gissing’s ideal women over-cultivated, self-important creatures, with low-pressure vitality and too little animal.... “You’re rather like that you know.” ...
“Men would always rather be made love to than talked at.”
“Your life is a complex system of evasions. You are a mass of health, unused. You’re not doing any thing with yourself....” “... Two kinds of women, the kind that come it over one, tremendously, and nurses.”
“Most good men are something like chimpanzees. The best man in those relationships is the accomplished rake ... that’s the secret of old Grooge.... Yes; you’d hate him. He’s one of the old school; expert knowledge about women. That’s nonsense of course. There is no expert knowledge about women. Men and women are very much alike. But there’s the honest clean red-blooded people and the posers and rotters and anæmic people. And there are for your comfort a few genuine monogamists. Very few.”
“You’re stuck, you know. Stuffed with romantic ignorance. You’re a great chap. A gentleman. That’s an insult, isn’t it. You don’t exploit yourself....”
“I’m not sure about you. You’ve got an awfully good life up in town, jolly groups; various and interesting. One hesitates to disturb it.... But we’re old friends. And there’s this silly barrier between us. There always is between people who evade what is after all only the development of the friendly handshake.”
“She’s a very fine artist. Well, she, my dear Miriam, has lovers. They keep her going. Keep her creative. She’s a woman one can talk to.... There’s no tiresome barrier....”
“Your women are a sort of omnibus load.”