Beatrice Grimshaw

Beatrice Grimshaw

Summary

Portrait of Beatrice Grimshaw Beatrice Grimshaw A Cassowary and a Hymn-Book (1914)

When I had left the Marquis in his room I waited for a little while and then went straight back to Mrs. Vandaleur's. I found her alone on the veranda; and this time, all her rouge could not conceal the sudden paleness that crept like a white mist over her pretty face when she saw me return alone.
“I am flattered,” she said. “To what do I owe the honor of this—very late—call?"
I looked her straight in the eyes. “What will you take for your cassowary?” I said. “Your cassowary that is sick—though it doesn't look it—and that will probably die in a day or two, suddenly?”
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Beatrice Grimshaw Beatrice Grimshaw A Cassowary and a Hymn-Book (1914)

In the afternoons when the southeast was howling harder than ever and almost laying flat the little eucalyptus trees, that stand up all over the many hills on which Port Moresby is built, I used to climb the heights above the town and wander idly about, holding my hat on and thinking what I'd do with my share of the price of the diamond—if we ever got it safe away to civilization. And down below on the flat the Marquis would be playing tennis with Mrs. Vandaleur, or squiring her about on the beach.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Beatrice Grimshaw Beatrice Grimshaw A Cassowary and a Hymn-Book (1914)

Even when the Marquis proposed going out to the little back garden to look at Mrs. Vandaleur's plants, I was so stupid that I couldn't see they did not want me, and I got up to go too, protesting that nothing in the world interested me so much as the selection and care of roses in the tropics.
“I never knew you were an amateur of the garden,” observed the Marquis somewhat ruefully. “You are then interested in culture? Don't put out yourself to please us, my friend, if you would rather love to stay in the house.”
Source: Wikisource

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