Man and Maid

He meant no personal disrespect to Alathea. For him women were either of

the world or they were not!--True, there was an intermediate class "Les

braves gens"--Bourgeoises--servants, typists, etc., etc.--But one

could only be interested in one of these for one reason. That is how

things appeared to Maurice. I knew his views; perhaps I had shared them

in some measure in my unregenerate days.

"Look here Maurice--I want you to understand--that Miss Sharp is a lady

in every way--I have already told you this but you don't seem to have

grasped it--and that she has my greatest respect--and it makes me sick

to think of anyone talking of her as you have just done. Although I know

you did not mean anything low, you old owl!--She treats me as though I

were a tiresome, elderly employer--whom she must give obedience to, but

is not obliged to converse with. She would not permit the slightest

friendship or familiarity from any man she worked for."

"Your interest is then serious, Nicholas?"

Maurice was absolutely aghast!

"My respect is serious--my curiosity is hot--and I want

information."---Maurice tried to feel relieved--.

"Supposing financial disaster fell upon your family, old boy--would you

consider your sister less of a lady because she had to earn bread for

you all by being a typist!"

"Of course not--but it would be very dreadful!--Marie!--Oh! I could not

think of it!"

"Then try to get the idea into your thick head that Miss Sharp is

Marie--and behave accordingly--That is how I look at her."

Maurice promised that he would, and our talk turned to the Duchesse--he

had seen her at a cross country station as he came up, and she would be

back in Paris the following week--This thought gave me comfort. Everyone

would be back by the fifteenth of October he assured me, and then we

could all amuse ourselves again--.

"You will be quite well enough to dine out, Nicholas--Or if not you must

move to the Ritz with me, so that you at least have entertainment on the

spot, Mon cher!"

We spoke then of the book--Furniture was a really refined and

interesting subject for me to be delving into. Maurice longed to read

the proofs, he averred.

When he had left me, I lay back in my chair and asked myself what had

happened to me?--that Maurice and all that lot seemed such miles and

miles away from me--as miles and miles as they would have seemed in

their triviality, when we used to discuss important questions in "Pop"

at Eton.