Contents (91)
- THE PRETTY LADY
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- ARNOLD BENNETT
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- Contents
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- The Pretty Lady
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- Chapter 1 - The Promenade
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- Chapter 2 - The Power
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- Chapter 3 - The Flat
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- Chapter 4 - Confidence
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- Chapter 5 - Ostend
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- Chapter 6 - The Albany
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- Chapter 7 - For the Empire
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- Chapter 8 - Boots
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- Chapter 9 - The Club
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- Chapter 10 - The Mission
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- Chapter 11 - The Telegram
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- Chapter 12 - Rendezvous
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- Chapter 13 - In Committee
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- Chapter 14 - Queen
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- Chapter 15 - Evening Out
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- Chapter 16 - The Virgin
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- Chapter 17 - Sunday Afternoon
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- Chapter 18 - The Mystic
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- Chapter 19 - The Visit
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- Chapter 20 - Mascot
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- Chapter 21 - The Leave-Train
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- Chapter 22 - Getting on with the War
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- Chapter 23 - The Call
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- Chapter 24 - The Soldier
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- Chapter 25 - The Ring
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- Chapter 26 - The Return
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- Chapter 27 - The Clyde
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- Chapter 28 - Salome
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- Chapter 29 - The Streets
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- Chapter 30 - The Child's Arm
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- Chapter 31 - "Romance"
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- Chapter 32 - Mrs. Braiding
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- Chapter 33 - The Roof
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- Chapter 34 - In the Boudoir
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- Chapter 35 - Queen Dead
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- Chapter 36 - Collapse
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- Chapter 37 - The Invisible Powers
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- Chapter 38 - The Victory
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- Chapter 39 - Idyll
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- Chapter 40 - The Window
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- Chapter 41 - The Envoy
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- * * *
Then suddenly the demeanour of every member of the committee was quickened, everybody listened intently to everything that was said; a couple of members would speak together; pattern-designing and the manufacture of paper ships, chains, and flowers ceased; it was as though a tonic had been mysteriously administered to each individual in the enervating room. The cause of the change was a recommendation from the hospitals management sub-committee that it be an instruction to the new matron of the smaller hospital to forbid any nurse and any doctor to go out alone together in the evening. Scandal was insinuated; nothing really wrong, but a bad impression produced upon the civilians of the tiny town, who could not be expected to understand the holy innocence which underlies the superficial license of Anglo-Saxon manners. The personal characters and strange idiosyncrasies of every doctor and every nurse were discussed; broad principles of conduct were enunciated, together with the advantages and disadvantages of those opposite poles, discipline and freedom. The argument continually expanded, branching forth like the timber of a great oak-tree from the trunk, and the minds of the committee ran about the tree like monkeys. The interest was endless. A quiet delegate who had just returned from a visit to the tiny town completely blasted one part of the argument by asserting that the hospital bore a blameless reputation among the citizens; but new arguments were instantly constructed by the adherents of the idea of discipline. The committee had plainly split into two even parties. G.J. began to resent the harshness of the disciplinarians.
"I think we should remember," he said in his modest voice, "I think we should remember that we are dealing with adult men and women."
The libertarians at once took him for their own. The disciplinarians gave him to understand with their eyes that it might have been better if he, as a new member attending his first meeting, had kept silence. The discussion was inflamed. One or two people glanced surreptitiously at their watches. The hour had long passed six thirty. G.J. grew anxious about his rendezvous with Christine. He had enjoined exactitude upon Christine. But the main body of the excited and happy committee had no thought of the flight of time. The amusements of the tiny town came up for review. As a fact, there was only one amusement, the cinema. The whole town went to the cinema. Cinemas were always darkened; human nature was human nature.... G.J. had an extraordinarily realistic vision of the hospital staff slaving through its long and heavy day and its everlasting week and preparing in sections to amuse itself on certain evenings, and thinking with pleasant anticipation of the ecstasies of the cinema, and pathetically unsuspicious that its fate was being decided by a council of omnipotent deities in the heaven of a London hotel.
"Mamma has never mentioned the subject to me," said Lady Queenie in response to a question, looking at her rich muff.
"This is a question of principle," said somebody sharply, implying that at last individual consciences were involved and that the opinions of the Marchioness of Lechford had ceased to weigh.