at she would give
Richard, what she would bring to satisfy that craving for living beauty
which was so avid in him and because of his fastidiousness and his
unwilling loyalty to the soul so unsatisfied. She wondered too whether
Ellen could lighten those of his days which were sunless with doubt. And
for that reason her appreciation brought her no nearer the girl than a
courtier comes to the jewel he thinks fair enough to purchase as a
present to his king. She became aware of the obstinate duration of their
distance, and, trying to buy intimacy with honesty, because that was for
her the highest price that could be paid, she said in the same forced
voice, "You know, you're ever so much better than I thought you'd be."

"Am I now? What way?" Like all young people, she loved to talk about
herself. "My looks, do you mean? Now, I was sure Richard was funning me
when he told me I was nice. He talks so much of my hair that I was
afraid he thought little of the rest of me. I'm sure he told you that
I'm plain. And I am. Am I not?"

"No, you're beautiful. I expected you to be beautiful." There was a hint
of coldness in her voice, as if she disliked the implication that her
son might be lacking in taste. "It's the other things I'm surprised at:
that you're clever, that you're reflective, that you feel deeply."

"As a matter of fact," said Ellen, confidentially, leaning across the
table, "since we're being honest, I don't mind saying that I think
you're not over-stating it. But how do you know all that? I'm sure I've
been most petty and disagreeable ever since I arrived. I've just been
hoping it's not the climate that's doing it, for that'd be hard on
Richard and you."

The other woman became almost confused. "Oh, that was me! That was me!"
she said earnestly. "I told you I was evasive. One form it takes is that
when I meet people I'm very much interested in, I can't show my interest
directly; I take cover behind a pretence of abstraction. I polish my
nails and do silly things like that, and people think I'm cold, and
stupid about the particular point they want me to see, and they try to
attract my attention by behaving wildly, and that usually means behaving
badly. It was my fault, it was my fault!"

"Indeed, it was my own ill nature," said Ellen stoutly. "But let us
cease this moral babble, as Milton says. I wish you'd tell me why you're
surprised that I should be clever, though you were quite cairtain that
he would have chos