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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
penetrated to his brain before.
As Ruths front door closed behind them and he came down the steps with
her, he found himself greatly perturbed. It was not unalloyed bliss,
taking her to the lecture. He did not know what he ought to do. He had
seen, on the streets, with persons of her class, that the women took the
mens arms. But then, again, he had seen them when they didnt; and he
wondered if it was only in the evening that arms were taken, or only
between husbands and wives and relatives.
Just before he reached the sidewalk, he remembered Minnie. Minnie had
always been a stickler. She had called him down the second time she
walked out with him, because he had gone along on the inside, and she had
laid the law down to him that a gentleman always walked on the
outside--when he was with a lady. And Minnie had made a practice of
kicking his heels, whenever they crossed from one side of the street to
the other, to remind him to get over on the outside. He wondered where
she had got that item of etiquette, and whether it had filtered down from
above and was all right.
It wouldnt do any harm to try it, he decided, by the time they had
reached the sidewalk; and he swung behind Ruth and took up his station on
the outside. Then the other problem presented itself. Should he offer
her his arm? He had never offered anybody his arm in his life. The
girls he had known never took the fellows arms. For the first several
times they walked freely, side by side, and after that it was arms around
the waists, and heads against the fellows shoulders where the streets
were unlighted. But this was different. She wasnt that kind of a girl.
He must do something.
He crooked the arm next to her--crooked it very slightly and with secret
tentativeness, not invitingly, but just casually, as though he was
accustomed to walk that way. And then the wonderful thing happened. He
felt her hand upon his arm. Delicious thrills ran through him at the
contact, and for a few sweet moments it seemed that he had left the solid
earth and was flying with her through the air. But he was soon back
again, perturbed by a new complication. They were crossing the street.
This would put him on the inside. He should be on the outside. Should
he therefore drop her arm and change over? And if he did so, would he
have to repeat the manoeuvre the next time? And the next? There was
something wrong about it, and he resolved not to caper about and play the
fool. Yet he was not satisfied with his conclusion, and when he found
himself on the inside, he talked quickly and earnestly, making a show of
being carried away by what he was saying, so that, in case he was wrong
in not changing sides, his enthusiasm would seem the cause for his
carelessness.
As they crossed Broadway, he came face to face with a new problem. In
the blaze of the electric lights, he saw Lizzie Connolly and her giggly
friend. Only for an instant he hesitated, then his hand went up and his
hat came off. He could not be disloyal to his kind, and it was to more
than Lizzie Connolly that his hat was lifted. She nodded and looked at
him boldly, not with soft and gentle eyes like Ruths, but with eyes that
were handsome and hard, and that swept on past him to Ruth and itemized
her face and dress and station. And he was aware that Ruth looked, too,
with quick eyes that were timid and mild as a doves, but which saw, in a
look that was a flutter on and past, the working-class girl in her cheap
finery and under the strange hat that all working-class girls were
wearing just then.
"What a pretty girl!" Ruth said a moment later.
Martin could have blessed her, though he said:-
"I dont know. I guess its all a matter of personal taste, but she
doesnt strike me as being particularly pretty."
"Why, there isnt one woman in ten thousand with features as regular as
hers. They are splendid. Her face Martin Eden page 48 Martin Eden page 50 |