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The Lesson of the Master

The Lesson of the Master


HumorClassic FictionGeneral Fiction

Currently unavailable to order

ISBN13: 9798591459895
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Jan 8 2021
Pages: 50
Weight: 0.23
Height: 0.10 Width: 7.01 Depth: 10.00
Language: English
He is indeed, Miss Fancourt.As if I read you because I read 'everything'!Oh I don't mean for saying that, said Paul Overt. I liked him from the moment he began to bekind to me. Then he promised me this privilege.It isn't for you he means it-it's for me. If you flatter yourself that he thinks of anything in life butme you'll find you're mistaken. He introduces every one. He thinks me insatiable.You speak just like him, laughed our youth.Ah but sometimes I want to-and the girl coloured. I don't read everything-I read verylittle. But I have read you.Suppose we go into the gallery, said Paul Overt. She pleased him greatly, not so much because ofthis last remark-though that of course was not too disconcerting-as because, seated opposite tohim at luncheon, she had given him for half an hour the impression of her beautifulface. Something else had come with it-a sense of generosity, of an enthusiasm which, unlike manyenthusiasms, was not all manner. That was not spoiled for him by his seeing that the repast hadplaced her again in familiar contact with Henry St. George. Sitting next her this celebrity was alsoopposite our young man, who had been able to note that he multiplied the attentions lately broughtby his wife to the General's notice. Paul Overt had gathered as well that this lady was not in theleast discomposed by these fond excesses and that she gave every sign of an unclouded spirit. Shehad Lord Masham on one side of her and on the other the accomplished Mr. Mulliner, editor of thenew high-class lively evening paper which was expected to meet a want felt in circles increasinglyconscious that Conservatism must be made amusing, and unconvinced when assured by those ofanother political colour that it was already amusing enough. At the end of an hour spent in hercompany Paul Overt thought her still prettier than at the first radiation, and if her profane allusionsto her husband's work had not still rung in his ears he should have liked her-so far as it could be aquestion of that in connexion with a woman to whom he had not yet spoken and to whom probablyhe should never speak if it were left to her. Pretty women were a clear need to this genius, and forthe hour it was Miss Fancourt who supplied the want.

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