She almost sniffed, and she became angry, too, that a man like
Crozier, who had faced the offensive Augustus Burlingame in the
witness-box as he did; who took the bullet of the assassin with such
courage; who broke a horse like a Mexican; who could ride like a leech on
a filly's flank, should crumple up at the thought of a woman who, anyhow,
couldn't be taller than Crozier himself was, and hadn't a hand like a
piece of steel and the skin of an antelope. It was enough to make a cat
laugh, or a woman cry with rage.
"Able and brilliant and splendid and far-seeing, and radiantly handsome!"
There the picture was of a high, haughty, and overbearing woman, in
velvet, or brocade, or poplin-yes, something stiff and overbearing, like
grey poplin. Kitty looked at herself suddenly in the mirror-the
half-length mirror on the opposite wall--and she felt her hands clench
and her bosom beat hard under her pretty and inexpensive calico frock, a
thing for Chloe, not for Juno.
She was very angry with Crozier, for it was absurd, that look of
deprecating homage, that "Hush-she-is-coming" in his eyes. What a fool a
man was where a woman was concerned! Here she had been fighting herself
for a fortnight to conquer a useless passion for her man of all the
world, fit to command an array of giants; and she saw him now almost
breathless as he spoke of a great wild-cat of a woman who ought to be by
his side now.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97