sentence?’
‘What a
terrible fellow,’ Matthew said. ‘Alice should leave him, a lovely girl like that.’
‘She’s
completely under his power. In love with him.’
‘A
terrible thing,’ Matthew said. ‘A girl like that taking up with a spiritualist.
Aren’t they a lot of mad fellows, spiritualists?’ He was thinking of Ewart
Thornton with whom he frequently had loud arguments on the Irish question. ‘I
know a spiritualist,’ Matthew said, ‘who’s a schoolmaster, we both belong to a
drinking club out at Hampstead. But he won’t talk about spiritualism to me
because he knows I’m Irish. He talks politics. He’s mad.’
‘Are
the Irish against spiritualism?’
‘Well,
the Catholics, it’s the same thing.’
‘There’s
a lot in spiritualism,’ Elsie said. ‘I’m not a spiritualist myself exactly. At
least, I’ve never joined a Circle. But Alice is a member. And I believe in it.’
‘Do you
really?’ Matthew was interested with an eager mental curiosity in direct
proportion as he was put off her sexually by the thought of her being a
spiritualist. A deep inherited and unarguable urge made him move his chair a
little bit away from her, whereas he had previously been moving it nearer; and
he reflected, then, that he need not have eaten the onion. A spiritualist girl
might dematerialise in the act, if it came to the act. But his mind was alert
for knowledge. ‘How do they summon up the spirits of the dead?’ Matthew said. ‘Would
you have some more gin?’
She
said, ‘I need it, after a sleepless night.’
‘There’s
some mince-meat and onion and potatoes and there’s some custard and fruit. Or
you could have bacon and eggs,’ Matthew said. ‘You just say when you’re hungry.
How do they call up the dead from their repose?’ He poured the gin and gave it
to her while she described the thrilling process of the medium’s getting
through to the other side.
‘I had
a friend called Colin that was killed,’ she said, ‘and Patrick Seton got
through to him and he gave me a message, it was quite incredible because nobody
could have known except Colin and me about this thing that he mentioned, it was
a secret between Colin and me.’
‘Can’t
you tell it to me?’ Matthew said.
‘Well,’
she said, ‘it’s rather personal.’ She looked at Matthew rather meaningly.
Matthew felt himself slightly endangered and was grateful, after all, for the
strong onion in his breath.
She
drank down her gin. Matthew filled her glass, and moved his chair towards her
again. ‘Are you feeling like supper?’ he said. ‘Perhaps we’ll just fry a couple
of rashers and eggs. Or you’ld perhaps prefer to come out, that would be
simpler.’
She
looked at him with quite a glow, and her face, haggard as it was, showed its
youth. ‘I’ll just have my drink,’ she said. ‘I’m enjoying this rest and opening
my heart to somebody.’
She
came over and sat on the arm of this chair. She began to finger his black
curls. He turned and breathed hard upon her.
‘You
remind me of Colin,’ she said, ‘in a certain respect. He used to be fond of
onions and I minded at first, but I got used to it. So I don’t mind your onion-breath
very much.’
Matthew
clasped her desperately round the waist, and sighed upon her as if to save his
soul. But she too sighed and shivered with excitement as she subsided upon him.
At ten
o’clock they went out to eat. Elsie then telephoned to see how Alice was
getting on and returned to report that Patrick had still not come home and
Alice was upset. And so Elsie took Matthew to the room in Ebury Street where
Alice sat up in bed with her long black hair let loose, and her beautiful
distress; and Matthew fell altogether in love with her.
After
he had gone, Alice said, looking at Elsie in a special way,
‘You’ve
been to bed this afternoon.’
‘Yes.
He reminds me of Colin in a way. His breath——’
‘Have
you been foolish tonight, Elsie?’
‘Well,
you
‘What a
terrible fellow,’ Matthew said. ‘Alice should leave him, a lovely girl like that.’
‘She’s
completely under his power. In love with him.’
‘A
terrible thing,’ Matthew said. ‘A girl like that taking up with a spiritualist.
Aren’t they a lot of mad fellows, spiritualists?’ He was thinking of Ewart
Thornton with whom he frequently had loud arguments on the Irish question. ‘I
know a spiritualist,’ Matthew said, ‘who’s a schoolmaster, we both belong to a
drinking club out at Hampstead. But he won’t talk about spiritualism to me
because he knows I’m Irish. He talks politics. He’s mad.’
‘Are
the Irish against spiritualism?’
‘Well,
the Catholics, it’s the same thing.’
‘There’s
a lot in spiritualism,’ Elsie said. ‘I’m not a spiritualist myself exactly. At
least, I’ve never joined a Circle. But Alice is a member. And I believe in it.’
‘Do you
really?’ Matthew was interested with an eager mental curiosity in direct
proportion as he was put off her sexually by the thought of her being a
spiritualist. A deep inherited and unarguable urge made him move his chair a
little bit away from her, whereas he had previously been moving it nearer; and
he reflected, then, that he need not have eaten the onion. A spiritualist girl
might dematerialise in the act, if it came to the act. But his mind was alert
for knowledge. ‘How do they summon up the spirits of the dead?’ Matthew said. ‘Would
you have some more gin?’
She
said, ‘I need it, after a sleepless night.’
‘There’s
some mince-meat and onion and potatoes and there’s some custard and fruit. Or
you could have bacon and eggs,’ Matthew said. ‘You just say when you’re hungry.
How do they call up the dead from their repose?’ He poured the gin and gave it
to her while she described the thrilling process of the medium’s getting
through to the other side.
‘I had
a friend called Colin that was killed,’ she said, ‘and Patrick Seton got
through to him and he gave me a message, it was quite incredible because nobody
could have known except Colin and me about this thing that he mentioned, it was
a secret between Colin and me.’
‘Can’t
you tell it to me?’ Matthew said.
‘Well,’
she said, ‘it’s rather personal.’ She looked at Matthew rather meaningly.
Matthew felt himself slightly endangered and was grateful, after all, for the
strong onion in his breath.
She
drank down her gin. Matthew filled her glass, and moved his chair towards her
again. ‘Are you feeling like supper?’ he said. ‘Perhaps we’ll just fry a couple
of rashers and eggs. Or you’ld perhaps prefer to come out, that would be
simpler.’
She
looked at him with quite a glow, and her face, haggard as it was, showed its
youth. ‘I’ll just have my drink,’ she said. ‘I’m enjoying this rest and opening
my heart to somebody.’
She
came over and sat on the arm of this chair. She began to finger his black
curls. He turned and breathed hard upon her.
‘You
remind me of Colin,’ she said, ‘in a certain respect. He used to be fond of
onions and I minded at first, but I got used to it. So I don’t mind your onion-breath
very much.’
Matthew
clasped her desperately round the waist, and sighed upon her as if to save his
soul. But she too sighed and shivered with excitement as she subsided upon him.
At ten
o’clock they went out to eat. Elsie then telephoned to see how Alice was
getting on and returned to report that Patrick had still not come home and
Alice was upset. And so Elsie took Matthew to the room in Ebury Street where
Alice sat up in bed with her long black hair let loose, and her beautiful
distress; and Matthew fell altogether in love with her.
After
he had gone, Alice said, looking at Elsie in a special way,
‘You’ve
been to bed this afternoon.’
‘Yes.
He reminds me of Colin in a way. His breath——’
‘Have
you been foolish tonight, Elsie?’
‘Well,
you
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