"
Mrs. Arbuthnot was astonished. The extraordinary quickness with
which, hour by hour, under her very eyes, Lotty became more selfless,
disconcerted her. She was turning into something surprisingly like a
saint. Here she was now being affectionate about Mellersh--Mellersh,
who only that morning, while they hung their feet into the sea, had
seemed a mere iridescence, Lotty had told her, a thing of gauze. That
was only that morning; and by the time they had had lunch Lotty had
developed so far as to have got him solid enough again to write to, and
to write to at length. And now, a few minutes later, she was
announcing that he had every reason to be angry with her and hurt, and
that she herself had been--the language was unusual, but it did express
real penitence--a mean dog.
Rose stared at her astonished. If she went on like this, soon a
nimbus might be expected round her head, was there already, if one
didn't know it was the sun through the tree-trunks catching her sandy
hair.
A great desire to love and be friends, to love everybody, to be
friends with everybody, seemed to be invading Lotty--a desire for sheer
goodness. Rose's own experience was that goodness, the state of being
good, was only reached with difficulty and pain. It took a long time
to get to it; in fact one never did get to it, or, if for a flashing
instant one did, it was only for a flashing instant.
Pages:
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165