A Room With A View - Forster E.M..pdf - Cove Systems
A Room With A View - Forster E.M..pdf - Cove Systems A Room With A View - Forster E.M..pdf - Cove Systems
She and her secret stayed ten days longer in the deserted Metropolis visiting the scenes they were to know so well later on. It did her no harm, Cecil thought, to learn the framework of society, while society itself was absent on the golf-links or the moors. The weather was cool, and it did her no harm. In spite of the season, Mrs. Vyse managed to scrape together a dinner-party consisting entirely of the grandchildren of famous people. The food was poor, but the talk had a witty weariness that impressed the girl. One was tired of everything, it seemed. One launched into enthusiasms only to collapse gracefully, and pick oneself up amid sympathetic laughter. In this atmosphere the Pension Bertolini and Windy Corner appeared equally crude, and Lucy saw that her London career would estrange her a little from all that she had loved in the past. The grandchildren asked her to play the piano.
She played Schumann. "Now some Beethoven" called Cecil, when the querulous beauty of the music had died. She shook her head and played Schumann again. The melody rose, unprofitably magical. It broke; it was resumed broken, not marching once from the cradle to the grave. The sadness of the incomplete--the sadness that is often Life, but should never be Art--throbbed in its disjected phrases, and made the nerves of the audience throb. Not thus had she played on the little draped piano at the Bertolini, and "Too much Schumann" was not the remark that Mr. Beebe had passed to himself when she returned. When the guests were gone, and Lucy had gone to bed, Mrs. Vyse paced up and down the drawing-room, discussing her little party with her son. Mrs. Vyse was a nice woman, but her personality, like many another's, had been swamped by London, for it needs a strong head to live among many people. The too vast orb of her fate had crushed her; and she had
- Page 227 and 228: He smiled. There was indeed somethi
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- Page 231 and 232: was to let. Three notice-boards, be
- Page 233 and 234: about the Corinthian columns which
- Page 235 and 236: "Rather a strenuous clerk it would
- Page 237 and 238: gentlewomen at all. I know the type
- Page 239 and 240: enjoyed these open compliments to t
- Page 241 and 242: "It matters supremely. Sir Harry is
- Page 243 and 244: She led the way into the whispering
- Page 245 and 246: it, when Freddy was a purple-faced
- Page 247 and 248: "Lucy!" "Yes, I suppose we ought to
- Page 249 and 250: way. Why could he not do as any lab
- Page 251 and 252: Chapter X: Cecil as a Humourist The
- Page 253 and 254: tries to enter the pine-woods pouri
- Page 255 and 256: "But they really are coming now," s
- Page 257 and 258: Minnie, go for her--get her over th
- Page 259 and 260: at last procured really dee-sire-re
- Page 261 and 262: measure. "I trust they are the righ
- Page 263 and 264: She might well "screech" when she h
- Page 265 and 266: In his normal state Mr. Beebe would
- Page 267 and 268: "Hullo!" he called, and leant out o
- Page 269 and 270: lackguards--it was great sport--and
- Page 271 and 272: Chapter XI: In Mrs. Vyse's Well-App
- Page 273 and 274: murmured. "Oh, Cecil, I do, I do! I
- Page 275 and 276: ehaviour to your mother, Freddy, an
- Page 277: here. Please do not put 'Private' o
- Page 281 and 282: possible. Cecil, mind you marry her
- Page 283 and 284: Chapter XII: Twelfth Chapter It was
- Page 285 and 286: "I fancy they know how to read--a r
- Page 287 and 288: "Lucy used to be nearly as stupid a
- Page 289 and 290: thinks the same." "We are to raise
- Page 291 and 292: on you later on, my mother says, I
- Page 293 and 294: as the motions of the tree-tops abo
- Page 295 and 296: unhappy." Mr. Beebe slid away from
- Page 297 and 298: "These abrupt changes of vegetation
- Page 299 and 300: Mr. Beebe, who was hot, and who alw
- Page 301 and 302: "No. We are what matters. Without u
- Page 303 and 304: whooped in their faces, turned and
- Page 305 and 306: are in no position to argue. Come,
- Page 307 and 308: Chapter XIII: How Miss Bartlett's B
- Page 309 and 310: egarded the teaching as profound, a
- Page 311 and 312: "Not in that way. At times I could
- Page 313 and 314: She remained in much embarrassment,
- Page 315 and 316: "Oh, I wouldn't do that, Freddy, I
- Page 317 and 318: She did not. She said: "Come here,
- Page 319 and 320: come up and see us, and mercifully
- Page 321 and 322: "So would I," asserted Freddy, back
- Page 323 and 324: e, though so good. So please, mothe
- Page 325 and 326: week, something would even happen t
- Page 327 and 328: emain near him! Of course, the wish
She played Schumann. "Now some<br />
Beethoven" called Cecil, when the querulous<br />
beauty of the music had died. She shook her<br />
head and played Schumann again. The melody<br />
rose, unprofitably magical. It broke; it was<br />
resumed broken, not marching once from the<br />
cradle to the grave. The sadness of the<br />
incomplete--the sadness that is often Life, but<br />
should never be Art--throbbed in its disjected<br />
phrases, and made the nerves of the audience<br />
throb. Not thus had she played on the little<br />
draped piano at the Bertolini, and "Too much<br />
Schumann" was not the remark that Mr. Beebe<br />
had passed to himself when she returned.<br />
When the guests were gone, and Lucy had<br />
gone to bed, Mrs. Vyse paced up and down<br />
the drawing-room, discussing her little party<br />
with her son. Mrs. Vyse was a nice woman, but<br />
her personality, like many another's, had been<br />
swamped by London, for it needs a strong<br />
head to live among many people. The too vast<br />
orb of her fate had crushed her; and she had