Anthony Hope

“ There was even a streak of contrariness in her; what she might have said to herself she was prone to criticize or contradict, if it were too confidently or urgently pressed on her by another; perhaps, too, Cynthia’s claim to be the Captain’s mouthpiece stirred up in her a latent resentment; it was not to be called a jealousy; it was rather an amused irritation at both the divinity and his worshiper. His worshipers can sometimes make a divinity look foolish.
Her own interview with Beaumaroy at the Cottage had left her puzzled, distrustful—and attracted. ”

“ She met him one day at Old Place about a week after Christmas. The Captain was not there; he was at her own house, with Cynthia. With the rest of the family Beaumaroy was at his best; gaily respectful to Mrs. Naylor, merry with Gertie, exchanging cut and thrust with old Mr. Naylor, easy and cordial towards herself. Certainly an attractive human being and a charming companion, pre-eminently natural. “One talks of taking people as one finds them,” old Naylor said to her when they were left alone together for a few minutes by the fire, while the others chatted by the window. ”

“ Such perfect sympathy induces a free outpouring of inner thoughts, and reinforces the opinions of which it so unreservedly approves.
Cynthia did more than elicit and reinforce Captain Alec’s opinion; she also disseminated it—at Old Place, at the Irechesters’, at Doctor Mary’s, through all the little circle in which she was now a constant and a favorite figure. In the light of her experience of men, so limited and so sharply contrasted, she made a simple classification of them; they were Cransters or Alecs; and each class acted after its kind. Plainly Beaumaroy was not an Alec ”

“ He laughed. “Oh, I dare say the surroundings help too—we’re all rather children—old Saffron, and the Devil, and Captain Duggle, and the rest of it! The brain isn’t overworked down here; we like to find an outlet.”
“That means you think there’s nothing in it really?”
“In what?” retorted old Naylor briskly.
But Mary was equal to him. “My lips are sealed professionally,” she smiled. “But hasn’t your son said anything?”
“Admirable woman! Yes, Alec has said a few things; and the young lady gives it us, too. For my part, I think Beaumaroy’s just drifting. ”

“ There are men—patients, I mean—very hard to deal with; men who resent being ill, resent having to have things done to them and for them, who especially resent the services of women, even of nurses—I mean in quite indifferent things, not merely in things where a man may naturally shrink from their help. Well, you don’t seem that sort of man in the least.” She looked at him, as she ended this appreciation of him, as though she expected an answer or a comment. Beaumaroy made neither ”

“ Sort of fits in with Alec’s theory.”
Mary’s discretion gave way a little. “Or with Mr. Beaumaroy’s? Which is that I’m a fool, I think.”
“And that Irechester isn’t?” His eyes twinkled in good-humored malice. “Talking of what this and that person thinks of himself and of others, Irechester thinks himself something of an alienist.”
Her eyes grew suddenly alert. “He’s never talked to me on that subject.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s one of yours. Perhaps your studies haven’t lain that way? After all, no medical man can study everything!”
“Don’t be naughty, Mr. Naylor” said Doctor Mary. ”

“ You’re a friendly sort of man, you offer and accept attentions and kindnesses, you’re not stand-offish, or haughty, or sulky; you make friends easily, especially, perhaps, with women; they like you, and like to be pleasant and kind to you. ”

“ Do you follow me?”
“Yes, I think I know what you mean.”
“But with regard to the voice I distinctly remember that he used the word âmetallic.’”
“Why, that’s the word Cynthia used——”
“I dare say it is. It’s the word Alec used in describing the voice in which old Mr. Saffron recited his poem, or whatever it was, in bed.”
“But I’ve talked to Mr. Saffron; his voice isn’t like that; it’s a little high, but full and rather melodious.”
“Oh, well then——” He spread out his hands, as though acknowledging a check. “Still, the voice described as metallic seems to have been Mr. Saffron’s ”