Don't you suppose the martyr's
silence is noisier than a shriek of pain from the house-tops? I know--a
little about men," added Rosamund modestly, "and they invariably say to
themselves after a final rebuff: 'Now, I'll be patient and brave and
I'll bear with noble dignity this cataclysm which has knocked the world
galley-west for me and loosened the moon in its socket and spoiled the
symmetry of the sun.' And they go about being so conspicuously brave
that any debutante can tell what hurts them."
Eileen was still laughing, but not quite at her ease--the theme being
too personal to suit her. In fact, there usually seemed to be too much
personality in Rosamund's conversation--a certain artificial
indifference to convention, which she, Eileen, did not feel any desire
to disregard. For the elements of reticence and of delicacy were
inherent in her; the training of a young girl had formalised them into
rules. But since her debut she had witnessed and heard so many
violations of convention that now she philosophically accepted such,
when they came from her elders, merely reserving her own convictions in
matters of personal taste and conduct.
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