Man and Maid

Miss Sharp had left the piano and came over to me--.

"I am afraid you did not like that," she said--"I am so sorry"--her

voice was not so cold as usual.

"Yes I did--" I answered--"forgive me for being an awful ass--I--I--love

music tremendously, you see--"

She stood still for a moment--I was balancing myself by the table, my

crutch had fallen. Then she put out her hand.

"Can I help you to sit down again?"--she suggested.

And I let her--I wanted to feel her touch--I have never even shaken

hands with her before. But when I felt her guiding me to the chair, the

maddest desire to seize her came over me--to seize her in my arms to

tear off those glasses, to kiss those beautiful blue eyes they hid--to

hold her fragile scrap of a body tight against my breast, to tell her

that I loved her--and wanted to hold her there, mine and no one else's

in all the world----My God! what am I writing--I must crush this

nonsense--I must be sane--. But--what an emotion! The strongest I have

ever felt about a woman in my life--.

When I was settled in the chair again--things seemed to become blank for

a minute and then I heard Miss Sharp's voice with a tone--could it be of

anxiety? in it? saying "Drink this brandy, please." She must have gone

to the dining-room and fetched the decanter and glass from the case,

and poured it out while I was not noticing events.

I took it.

Again I said--"I am awfully sorry I am such an ass."

"If you are all right now--I ought to go back to my work," she

remarked--.

I nodded--and she went softly from the room. When I was alone, I used

every bit of my will to calm myself--I analysed the situation. Miss

Sharp loathes me--I cannot hold her by any means if she decides to go--.

The only way I can keep her near me is by continuing to be the cool

employer--And to do this I must see her as little as possible--because

the profound disturbance she is able to cause in me, reacts upon my raw

nerves--and with all the desire in the world to behave like a decent,

indifferent man, the physical weakness won't let me do so, and I am so

bound to make a consummate fool of myself.

When I was in the trenches and the shells were coming, and it was

beastly wet and verminy and uncomfortable, I never felt this feeble,

horrible quivering--I know just what funk is--I felt it the day I did

the thing they gave me the V.C. for. This is not exactly funk--I wish I

knew what it was and could crush it out of myself--.