“Why does she like Mitchell?”
“She likes nearly everybody.”
“But she writes to him.”
“Of course she does,” said Clowes, rather bored with his persistence.
“But she doesn’t write to me.”
“You don’t write to her. You can’t expect her to fall at your feet.”
As she said this Clowes realized his extraordinary Orientalism. She could see him holding up his finger and expecting a woman to come at his bidding, and for a moment she was repelled by him. But she was a kind-hearted creature and felt very sorry for him, for he seemed so utterly at sea and was obviously full of genuine and painful emotion.
He detected her repulsion at once and perceived the effort she made to conquer it, and was at once grateful to her, for, as a rule, when that happened, people let it swamp everything else.
She said:—
“I’ll tell Greta what you have said to me, and I am sure she will be very sorry to have hurt you.”