Greye La Spina

“ Lucy stopped weaving and turned her face to Mrs. Renner in feigned surprise but her intuition told her that there was more to the inquiry than was apparent on the surface.
"I love flowers so much,” she murmured, deprecatorily.
"Not in a room at night,” snapped Mrs. Renner. "They're unhealthy at night. That’s why I took out the others. I don’t want flowers in my bedrooms at night.”
The tone was that of an order and Lucy’s natural resentment, as well as her heightened curiosity, made her rebel.
"I’m not afraid of having flowers in my room at night, Mrs. Renner,” she persisted stubbornly. ”

“ Miss Beaver could not bear his convulsive, hardly-controlled sobs, and turned an accusing face upon Frank Wiley III.
"Is it possible," she asked icily, "that Frank's mother would actually refuse him so small a thing as a puppy, if it meant the merest chance of his getting better?"
The face turned to hers was gloomy, the voice impatient.
"Oh, good God! Was ever a man in such a damnable situation? My dear Miss Beaver, ask the doctor to tell you how much influence I have in this household, before you blame me for not taking a firm stand with a woman as nervous and temperamental as Mrs. Wiley. ”

“ Often I have reproved her severely for attempting to turn me aside from my life-work. The man whose intellect has driven him to enter the precincts of the great mystery cannot stop to dally with the folly of fools, and love is the greatest folly of all."
"Blind fool, you!" muttered the doctor under his breath. "Love is the very breath of life itself!"
"If Elena is to assist me in my last experiment, the greatest of all, I must get a subject soon, for she is wasting away fast. Oh, yes, I have observed it. Death has his fingers at her throat." ”

“ As I turned up Gilman Street on my way home, I saw the princess’ limousine standing outside Owen’s little office, the chauffeur muffled almost to the eyes in shaggy gray fur. I had sufficient curiosity—perhaps on account of my interest in Owen, for Portia’s sake—to walk past the office before crossing. I glanced at the chauffeur as I went by, and was simply aghast at the fierceness of his black eyes; he looked to be a veritable Tartar, as he stared unseeingly past me into Owen’s office, where the princess sat comfortably enough in a chair near the flat-top desk behind which Owen was ensconced. ”

“ He could see Benson’s smile. . . .
There was only one way out. Death! It was distasteful to him, because his death under present circumstances would mean the disclosure of what he had for three years been struggling to conceal. His death, with the revelation of that appalling sum total of debt, would make him the subject of derision for his rival.
If there were only some way to escape without baring his sordid secret to the world! He whipped his dulled mind into unwilling concentration. And then—suddenly—he had it! Within the dusk the little heater cast a circle of friendly radiance. ”

“ Miss Beaver stood by her patient's bed, her clear gray eyes full upon young Mrs. Wiley. The nurse experienced a kind of disgust, together with one of those uncomfortable intuitions upon the reliability of which Doctor Parris was always depending. She knew, all at once, that Mrs. Wiley was that strange type of modern woman which makes a cult of personal beauty, taking wifehood lightly and submitting to maternity as infrequently as possible. ”

“ Why, the poor kid! Lying there alone all day with no one to talk to, and crying all night with hunger. Lucy’s gorge rose against the hard efficiency of Mrs. Renner. How could a mother bear hearing that pitiful pleading? As if some relentless intuition pushed her into explanation, Mrs. Renner’s voice came huskily.
"Listen at her! Oh, my little Kathy! I just can’t bear it. I can’t get at them tonight but tomorrow I’m going to take out that honeysuckle! ”

“ The Princess Irma rose, however. She flew out of the pile of cushions, her face transformed by fury. She ran over to that prostrate figure crouching there. She stood over it for a moment, saying something that we could not hear, nor could we have understood her Russian had we heard. Then she thrust out a small foot shod with a buckled shoe, the heel of which sparkled with brilliants, and gave that poor old woman’s form a harsh push that sent Agathya sliding across the hearth. ”

“ In private, Filippo complained to the doctor that his wife was too demonstrative. She thought nothing of distracting his attention from important experiments, with pouting lips clamoring for a kiss, and not until he had hastily brushed her lips with his would she return to her work.
"I am obliged to bribe the woman with kisses," cried the professor, despairingly.
Elena had gone so far as to affirm to her husband that she was even jealous of his research, his experiments. That was unwise. No woman can interfere between a man and his chosen life-work. ”