"One of them is an artist. She paints portraits, and possibly other things.
Oh, I was going to say there is an art-gallery at the top of the house. Her
husband--I mean Mrs. Phillips'--was a painter and collector himself; and
after dinner we went up there, and a curious man came in, propelling a
wheeled chair--a sort of death's-head at the feast.... But don't let me get
too far away from the matter in hand. She is dark and a bit tonguey--the
artist-girl; and I believe she would be sarcastic and witty if she weren't
held down pretty well. I think she's a niece: the relationship leaves her
free, as I suppose she feels, to express herself. If you like the type you
may have it; but wit in a woman, or even humor, always makes me
uncomfortable. The feminine idea of either is a little different from ours.
"Another girl is a musician. She plays the violin--quite tolerably. Yes,
yes, I recall your views about violin-playing: it's either good or bad--
nothing between. I'll say this, then: she played some simple and
unpretentious things and did them very deftly. Simple, unpretentious:
oddest thing in the world, for she is a recent graduate of our school of
music and began this fall as an instructor.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73