He had tried to negative
his defects by spending a great deal of money on his clothes and being
as particular as a girl about his nails; but he felt that with all his
efforts he was but a bumpkin compared with certain other men--Rodney
Temple, for example--who never took any pains at all. Looking at her
now, her pure, exquisite profile bent over her piece of work, while the
sun struck coppery gleams from her masses of brown hair, he felt as he
had often felt in rooms filled with fragile specimens of
art--flower-like cups of ancient glass, dainty groups in Meissen, mystic
lovelinesses wrought in amber, ivory, or jade--as if his big, gross
personality ought to shrink into itself and he should walk on tiptoe.
"I understand from my father," she said, when she found herself obliged
to break the silence, "that you've offered to help him in his
difficulties. I couldn't let the occasion pass without telling you how
much I appreciate your generosity."
She spoke without looking up; words and tone were gently courteous, but
they affected him like an April zephyr, that ought to bring the balm of
spring, and yet has the chill of ice in it.
"Haven't you noticed," he said, slowly, choosing his words with care,
"that generosity consists largely in the point of view of the other
party? You may give away an old cloak, for the sake of getting rid of
it; but the person who receives it thinks you kind.
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