I wonder how it is,” she added, “that boys always make love so impertinently. ‘Come, I told you I wish to know everything about you. “To think that you were going to do it—and never said a word! You are a little thin, but except for that you look—you look better than ever. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. Leonardo was to me nothing at all. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear.
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