Poor lad! If he only knew what a treacherous, traitorous,
Machiavelli of a hero he had got. For the moment I suffered from a nasty
crick in the conscience.
"Wouldn't he, Adolphus, you celestial old blackguard?" he laughed. Then
suddenly: "My hat! You two are fond of darkness! It gives me the creeps.
Do you mind, Lola, if I turn on the light?"
He marched in his young way across to the switches and set the room
in the blaze he loved. My crick of the conscience was followed by an
impulse of resentment. He took it for granted that his will was law in
the house. He swaggered around the room with a proprietary air. He threw
in the casual "Lola" as if he owned her. Dale is the most delightful
specimen of the modern youth of my acquaintance. But even Dale, with
all his frank charm of manner, has the modern youth's offhand way with
women. I often wonder how women abide it. But they do, more shame to
them, and suffer more than they realise by their indulgence. When next I
meet Maisie Ellerton I will read her a wholesome lecture, for her soul's
good, on the proper treatment a self-respecting female should apply to
the modern young man.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180