One Can't Always Tell
Songs. After Victor Hugo, Armand Silvestre, Charles Rousseau and the Vicomte De Borelli
Love Went Out When Money Was Invented
A Puzzled Painter. (Written In Collaboration With The Late Sir Augustus Harris)
s?" he asked.
"No; it is one of Saidie's. Is it interesting?"
John Chetwynd's answer was to hurl the volume under the grate with an angry word.
"Why did you do that? I want to read it."
"I will not allow you to sully your mind with such filth. It only goes to prove what I have so often told you, that your sister is not a proper associate for any young woman. A book of that description--faugh!"
Bella picked up the offending volume and looked ruefully at its battered condition. "I should have supposed that as a married woman I might read anything," she said with an assumption of dignity.
"Why should you be less pure because you have a husband, my child? Don't run away with any such notion."
"Well, I will read it and give you my opinion of it."
"You will do no such thing. I forbid it, Bella."
"In a matter like this I shall judge for myself." Her cheeks were scarlet, and she kept her eyes downbent.
"I will not--"