That was in the first burst of propagandism, when, womanlike,
she wanted to turn her disobedience into a law. Now she felt
differently. She could hardly account for the change, yet being a
woman who never allowed her impulses to remain unaccounted for, she
tried to do so by saying that she did not care to have the articles
of her faith misinterpreted by the vulgar. In this connection, she
was beginning to think that almost every one was vulgar; certainly
there were few to whom she would have cared to intrust the defence
of so esoteric a doctrine. And it was precisely at this point that
Westall, discarding his unspoken principles, had chosen to descend
from the heights of privacy, and stand hawking his convictions at
the street-corner!
It was Una Van Sideren who, on this occasion, unconsciously focussed
upon herself Mrs. Westall's wandering resentment. In the first
place, the girl had no business to be there. It was "horrid"--Mrs.
Westall found herself slipping back into the old feminine
vocabulary--simply "horrid" to think of a young girl's being allowed
to listen to such talk. The fact that Una smoked cigarettes and
sipped an occasional cocktail did not in the least tarnish a certain
radiant innocency which made her appear the victim, rather than the
accomplice, of her parents' vulgarities. Julia Westall felt in a hot
helpless way that something ought to be done--that some one ought to
speak to the girl's mother. And just then Una glided up.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164