“You know almost too much of human nature, Adela. It’s not decent.”
Adela enjoyed being told that.
“I’ve seen all sorts in my time,” she said musingly.
It would no longer have pleased her to be thought younger than she was. On the contrary, she was apt to emphasise in herself the aspect of a full maturity.
“That last study of yours is simply magnificent. Dear, I don’t wonder you’ve never chosen to marry. No man’s vanity could survive your insight.”
A newcomer to the group leant forward eagerly. Her characteristic was lack of self-restraint, which she acclaimed in herself as fearlessness.
“But you’ve known the great realities—you’ve known passion,” she urged foolishly. “You could never write as you do, otherwise.”
Adela gazed at her new disciple from under drooping eyelids. “I am not ashamed of it,” she said quietly. “I am proud of it.”
The girl nodded with grotesque, unconscious vehemence.
The two other women-friends of Adela who were present, exchanged a meaning look with one another. Each had heard Adela’s story before, had shown loyal pride and understanding. There was no need of further demonstration from them. Adela was looking at the girl.