Edith Nesbit

Name: The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures
Author: Edith Nesbit

The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (1906)

Summary

“The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures”, published in 1906, is a work by Edith Nesbit. It explores elements such as Long Barton, roses and The Inward Monitor.

Quotes from The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (Edith Nesbit)

Edith Nesbit, The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (1906)

“ Why do people always talk about cold shivers? I think hot shivers are much more amusing. It's like a skylark singing up close to the sun, and doing the tremolo with its wings. I'm sorry you're going away, though."
"I'm not going away," he said. "I wouldn't leave you when you're ill for all the life's happinesses that ever were. Oh, why can't you cure me? I don't want to want her; I want to want you."
"I'm certain," said Lady St. Craye brightly, "that what you've just been saying's most awfully interesting, but I like to hear things said ever so many times. ”

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Source: Wikisource

Edith Nesbit, The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (1906)

“ Paris was growing intolerable. But for—well, a thousand reasons—Lady St. Craye would already have left it. The pavements were red-hot. When one drove it was through an air like the breath from the open mouth of a furnace.
She kept much within doors, filled her rooms with roses, and lived with every window open. Her balcony, too, was full of flowers, and the striped sun-blinds beyond each open window kept the rooms in pleasant shadow.
"But suppose something happens to her—all alone there," said the Inward Monitor.
"Nothing will. She's not that sort of girl." ”

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Source: Wikisource

Edith Nesbit, The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (1906)

“ A couple of miles is a good distance. Also a very little way, as you choose to take it.
"You know it was a mean trick," said the Inward Monitor. "Why not have let the girl go away where she could be alone—and get over it?"
"Oh, be quiet!" said Lady St. Craye. "I never knew myself so tiresome before. I think I must be going to be ill. My head feels like an ice in an omelette."
Vernon, strolling in much later, found her with eyes closed, leaning back among her flowers as she had lain all that long afternoon.
"How pale you look," he said. "You ought to get away from here." ”

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Source: Wikisource

Edith Nesbit, The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (1906)

“ But things aren't always what we call them, are they? You mustn't kiss me now, Eustace. I think I've got some horrid fever—I'm sure I have. Because of course nobody could be bewitched nowadays, and put into a body that feels thick and thin in the wrong places. And my head isn't too big to get through the door.—Of course I know it isn't. It would be funny if it were. I do love funny things.—So do you. I like to hear you laugh. I wish I could say something funny, so as to hear you laugh now."
She was holding his hand very tightly with one of hers. The other held the white roses. ”

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Source: Wikisource

Edith Nesbit, The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (1906)

“ But all the same he found himself playing with the word-puzzle whose solution was the absolutely right letter to Betty's father, asking her hand in marriage.
"Well," he asked the doctor who closed softly the door of the bedroom and came forward, "is it brain-fever?"
"Holy Ann, no! Brain fever's a fell disease invented by novelists—I never met it in all my experience. The doctors in novels have special advantages. No, it's influenza—pretty severe touch too. She ought to have been in bed days ago. She'll want careful looking after."
"I see," said Vernon. "Any danger?" ”

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Source: Wikisource

Edith Nesbit, The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (1906)

“ Anyhow, I shall know whether she's at Long Barton by the time it takes to get an answer. If it's two days, she's there. If it's longer she isn't. He'll send my letter on to her—unless he suppresses it. Your really pious people are so shockingly unscrupulous."
There is nothing so irretrievable as a posted letter. This came home to Vernon as the envelope dropped on the others in the box at the Café du Dóme—came home to him rather forlornly.
Next morning he called with more roses for Lady St. Craye, pinky ones this time. ”

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Source: Wikisource

Edith Nesbit, The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (1906)

“ Craye's husband," said Vernon equably. "I was merely calling, and she seemed so ill that I took upon myself to—"
"I see—I see. Well, if you don't mind taking on yourself to let her husband know? It's a nasty case. Temperature 104. Perhaps her husband 'ud be as well here as anywhere."
"He's dead," said Vernon.
"Oh!" said the doctor with careful absence of expression. "Get some woman to put her to bed and to stay with her till the nurse comes. She's in a very excitable state. Good afternoon. I'll look in after dinner." ”

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Source: Wikisource

Edith Nesbit, The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (1906)

“ Craye to the Inward Monitor who was buzzing its indiscreet common-places in her ear. "I've really done her a good turn by sending her to Grez. No—it's not in the least compromising for a girl to stay at the same hotel. And besides, there are lots of amusing people there, I expect. She'll have a delightful time, and get to know that Temple boy really well. I'm sure he'd repay investigation. If I weren't a besotted fool I could have pursued those researches myself. But it's not what's worth having that one wants; it's—it's what one does want. ”

Edith Nesbit

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Quotes from The Incomplete Amorist — Chapter XXIII: Temperatures (Edith Nesbit)

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