...She had had no one to rejoice with her....She felt an overwhelming
sense of gratitude to Alexina.
But she gave this young wife of her brother whom she knew as little as
Alexina knew her, another swift suspicious glance....No, there was nothing
of Alexina's usual high and careless courtesy in that eager almost excited
face.
"I'd love to have your opinion....I read very badly....Make allowances...."
"Oh, fire away. If I'd written a story and had it accepted by that magazine
I'd read it from the housetops."
Gora read the story well enough, and Alexina's mind did not wander even to
Gathbroke. It was written in a pure direct vigorous English. A little less
self-consciousness and it would have been distinguished. The story itself
was built craftily; she had been coached by a clever instructor who was a
successful writer of short stories himself; and it worked up to a climax of
genuine drama. But this was merely the framework, the flexible technique
for the real Gora. The story had not only an original point of view but it
pulsed with the insurgent resentful passionate spirit of the writer.
Alexina gave a little gasp as Gora finished.
"Many people won't like that story," she said. "It shocks and jars and
gives one's smugness a pain in the middle. But those that do like it
will give you a great reputation, and after all there are a few thousand
intelligent readers in the United States.
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