"It's a lie!" he cried.
"That's what I told Mrs. Vivie," said the other; "it doesn't sound
like you--"
Montague had flushed scarlet. "I don't mean that!" he cried. "I mean
that Mrs. Winnie never said any such thing."
"Oh," said Oliver, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe not,"
he added. "But I know she's furious with you about
something--everybody's talking about it. She tells people that
she'll never speak to you again. And what I want to know is,
why is it that you have to do things to make enemies of
everybody you know?"
Montague said nothing; he was trembling with anger.
"What in the world did you do to her?" began the other. "Can't you
trust me---"
And suddenly Montague sprang to his feet. "Oh, Oliver," he
exclaimed, "let me alone! Go away!"
And he went into the next room and slammed the door, and began
pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
It was a lie! It was a lie! Mrs. Winnie had never said such a thing!
He would never believe it--it was a nasty piece of backstairs
gossip!
But then a new burst of rage swept over him What did it matter
Whether it was true or not--whether anything was true or not? What
did it matter if anybody had done all the hideous and loathsome
things that everybody else said they had done? It was what everybody
was saying! It was what everybody believed--what everybody was
interested in! It was the measure of a whole society--their ideals
and their standards! It was the way they spent their time, repeating
nasty scandals about each other; living in an atmosphere of
suspicion and cynicism, with endless whispering and leering, and
gossip of lew intrigue.
Pages:
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485