There
Was Little Colour In Her Face, But The Features Were Perfect And The
Mouth With Its Delicate Curves Quite Beautiful.
But after regarding her attentively for a minute or so, looking out
impatiently for my bus at the same time, I said mentally:
"Yes, you are
certainly very pretty, perhaps beautiful, but I don't like you and I
don't want you. There's nothing in you to correspond to that nice
outside. You are an exception to the rule that the beautiful is the
good. Not that you are bad - actively, deliberately bad - you haven't the
strength to be that or anything else; you have only a little shallow
mind and a little coldish heart."
Now I can imagine one of my lady readers crying out: "How dared you say
such monstrous things of any person after just a glance at her face?"
Listen to me, madam, and you will agree that I was not to blame for
saying these monstrous things. All my life I've had the instinct or
habit of seeing the things I see; that is to say, seeing them not as
cloud or mist-shapes for ever floating past, nor as people in endless
procession "seen rather than distinguished," but distinctly,
separately, as individuals each with a character and soul of its very
own; and while seeing it in that way some little unnamed faculty in
some obscure corner of my brain hastily scribbles a label to stick on
to the object or person before it passes out of sight.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 139 of 244
Words from 37613 to 37866
of 66164
