This Side of Paradise [91]
brows, and eyes that glittered green as emeralds in the blinding glare. She was a witch, of perhaps nineteen, he judged, alert and dreamy and with the tell-tale white line over her upper lip that was a weakness and a delight. He sank back with a gasp against the wall of hay. "Now you've seen me," she said calmly, "and I suppose you're about to say that my green eyes are burning into your brain." "What color is your hair?" he asked intently. "It's bobbed, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's bobbed. I don't know what color it is," she answered, musing, "so many men have asked me. It's medium, I suppose No one ever looks long at my hair. I've got beautiful eyes, though, haven't I. I don't care what you say, I have beautiful eyes." "Answer my question, Madeline."
"Don't remember them allbesides my name isn't Madeline, it's Eleanor."
"I might have guessed it. You look like Eleanor-you have that Eleanor look. You know what I mean."
There was a silence as they listened to the rain.
"It's going down my neck, fellow lunatic," she offered finally. "Answer my questions."
"Well-name of Savage, Eleanor; live in big old house mile down road; nearest living relation to be notified, grandfatherRamilly Savage; height, five feet four inches; number on watch-case, 3077 W; nose, delicate aquiline; temperament, uncanny-"
"And me," Amory interrupted, "where did you see me?"
"Oh, you're one of those men," she answered haughtily, "must lug old self into conversation. Well, my boy, I was behind a hedge sunning myself one day last week, and along comes a man saying in a pleasant, conceited way of talking:
"'And now when the night was senescent' (says he) 'And the star dials pointed to morn At the end of the path a liquescent' (says he) 'And nebulous lustre was born.'
So I poked my eyes up over the hedge, but you had started to run, for some unknown reason, and so I saw but the back of your beautiful head. 'Oh!' says I, 'there's a man for whom many of us might sigh,' and I continued in my best Irish"
"All right," Amory interrupted. "Now go back to yourself." "Well, I will. I'm one of those people who go through the world giving other people thrills, but getting few myself except those I read into men on such nights as these. I have the social courage to go on the stage, but not the energy; I haven't the patience to write books; and I never met a man I'd marry.
However, I'm only eighteen."
The storm was dying down softly and only the wind kept up its ghostly surge and made the stack lean and gravely settle from side to side. Amory was in a trance. He felt that every moment was precious. He had never met a girl like this beforeshe would never seem quite the same again. He didn't at all feel like a character in a play, the appropriate feeling in an unconventional situationinstead, he had a sense of coming home.
"I have just made a great decision," said Eleanor after another pause, "and that is why I'm here, to answer another of your questions. I have just decided that I don't believe in immortality."
"Really! how banal!"
"Frightfully so," she answered, "but depressing with a stale, sickly depression, nevertheless. I came out here to get wetlike a wet hen; wet hens always have great clarity of mind," she concluded.
"Go on," Amory said politely.
"Well-I'm not afraid of the dark, so I put on my slicker and rubber boots and came out. You see I was always afraid, before, to say I didn't believe in Godbecause the lightning might strike mebut here I am and it hasn't, of course, but the main point is that this time I wasn't any more afraid of it than I had been when I was a Christian Scientist, like I was last year. So now I know I'm a materialist and I was fraternizing with the hay when you came out and stood by the woods, scared to death."
"Why, you little wretch" cried Amory indignantly. "Scared of what?"
"Yourself!" she shouted, and he jumped. She clapped her hands and laughed. "See-see! Consciencekill it like me! Eleanor Savage, materiologistno jumping,
"Yes, it's bobbed. I don't know what color it is," she answered, musing, "so many men have asked me. It's medium, I suppose No one ever looks long at my hair. I've got beautiful eyes, though, haven't I. I don't care what you say, I have beautiful eyes." "Answer my question, Madeline."
"Don't remember them allbesides my name isn't Madeline, it's Eleanor."
"I might have guessed it. You look like Eleanor-you have that Eleanor look. You know what I mean."
There was a silence as they listened to the rain.
"It's going down my neck, fellow lunatic," she offered finally. "Answer my questions."
"Well-name of Savage, Eleanor; live in big old house mile down road; nearest living relation to be notified, grandfatherRamilly Savage; height, five feet four inches; number on watch-case, 3077 W; nose, delicate aquiline; temperament, uncanny-"
"And me," Amory interrupted, "where did you see me?"
"Oh, you're one of those men," she answered haughtily, "must lug old self into conversation. Well, my boy, I was behind a hedge sunning myself one day last week, and along comes a man saying in a pleasant, conceited way of talking:
"'And now when the night was senescent' (says he) 'And the star dials pointed to morn At the end of the path a liquescent' (says he) 'And nebulous lustre was born.'
So I poked my eyes up over the hedge, but you had started to run, for some unknown reason, and so I saw but the back of your beautiful head. 'Oh!' says I, 'there's a man for whom many of us might sigh,' and I continued in my best Irish"
"All right," Amory interrupted. "Now go back to yourself." "Well, I will. I'm one of those people who go through the world giving other people thrills, but getting few myself except those I read into men on such nights as these. I have the social courage to go on the stage, but not the energy; I haven't the patience to write books; and I never met a man I'd marry.
However, I'm only eighteen."
The storm was dying down softly and only the wind kept up its ghostly surge and made the stack lean and gravely settle from side to side. Amory was in a trance. He felt that every moment was precious. He had never met a girl like this beforeshe would never seem quite the same again. He didn't at all feel like a character in a play, the appropriate feeling in an unconventional situationinstead, he had a sense of coming home.
"I have just made a great decision," said Eleanor after another pause, "and that is why I'm here, to answer another of your questions. I have just decided that I don't believe in immortality."
"Really! how banal!"
"Frightfully so," she answered, "but depressing with a stale, sickly depression, nevertheless. I came out here to get wetlike a wet hen; wet hens always have great clarity of mind," she concluded.
"Go on," Amory said politely.
"Well-I'm not afraid of the dark, so I put on my slicker and rubber boots and came out. You see I was always afraid, before, to say I didn't believe in Godbecause the lightning might strike mebut here I am and it hasn't, of course, but the main point is that this time I wasn't any more afraid of it than I had been when I was a Christian Scientist, like I was last year. So now I know I'm a materialist and I was fraternizing with the hay when you came out and stood by the woods, scared to death."
"Why, you little wretch" cried Amory indignantly. "Scared of what?"
"Yourself!" she shouted, and he jumped. She clapped her hands and laughed. "See-see! Consciencekill it like me! Eleanor Savage, materiologistno jumping,