He felt that he
was not holding up his end of the line, however. When some
one spoke to him he could only summon a few words of reply,
that seemed to lead to nothing; things often came into
his mind appropriate to what they were saying, but before
he could get them out they were off on something else;
they jumped about so, he could not keep up; but he felt,
all the same, that he was not doing himself justice.
At one time the talk ran off upon a subject that Lapham
had never heard talked of before; but again he was vexed
that Penelope was not there, to have her say; he believed
that her say would have been worth hearing.
Miss Kingsbury leaned forward and asked Charles Bellingham
if he had read Tears, Idle Tears, the novel that was
making such a sensation; and when he said no, she said
she wondered at him. "It's perfectly heart-breaking,
as you'll imagine from the name; but there's such a dear
old-fashioned hero and heroine in it, who keep dying for
each other all the way through, and making the most wildly
satisfactory and unnecessary sacrifices for each other.
You feel as if you'd done them yourself."
"Ah, that's the secret of its success," said Bromfield Corey.
"It flatters the reader by painting the characters colossal,
but with his limp and stoop, so that he feels himself
of their supernatural proportions.
Pages:
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291