Isn't
it surprising, Hastings, how much some of us don't know? Now what do you
know about the history of art? Could you pass a sophomore examination in
it? Well, I couldn't until Ernestine began coaching me up this summer.
Now I'm quite fit to appear before women's clubs as a lecturer on art.
Literature, too, I'm getting on with; I'm getting acquainted with all the
Swedes and the Irishmen and the Poles who ever put pen to paper."
"Karl," she protested--"Swedes and Irishmen and Poles!"
"Isn't that what they are?" he demanded, innocently.
"Well they're not exactly a lot of immigrants."
"Yes they are; immigrants into the domain of my--shall I say
intellectuality?"
They laughed a little, and there was a moment's pause. "Tell me about
school," he said, abruptly, his voice all changed.
Professor Hastings felt the censorship of Ernestine's eyes upon him as he
talked; they travelled with a frightened eagerness from the face of the
man who spoke to him who listened. He could see them deepen as they
touched dangerous ground, and he wondered how she could go on living with
that intensity of feeling.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246