Contents (91)
- THE PRETTY LADY
- * * *
- ARNOLD BENNETT
- *
- Contents
- *
- The Pretty Lady
- *
- Chapter 1 - The Promenade
- *
- Chapter 2 - The Power
- *
- Chapter 3 - The Flat
- *
- Chapter 4 - Confidence
- *
- Chapter 5 - Ostend
- *
- Chapter 6 - The Albany
- *
- Chapter 7 - For the Empire
- *
- Chapter 8 - Boots
- *
- Chapter 9 - The Club
- *
- Chapter 10 - The Mission
- *
- Chapter 11 - The Telegram
- *
- Chapter 12 - Rendezvous
- *
- Chapter 13 - In Committee
- *
- Chapter 14 - Queen
- *
- Chapter 15 - Evening Out
- *
- Chapter 16 - The Virgin
- *
- Chapter 17 - Sunday Afternoon
- *
- Chapter 18 - The Mystic
- *
- Chapter 19 - The Visit
- *
- Chapter 20 - Mascot
- *
- Chapter 21 - The Leave-Train
- *
- Chapter 22 - Getting on with the War
- *
- Chapter 23 - The Call
- *
- Chapter 24 - The Soldier
- *
- Chapter 25 - The Ring
- *
- Chapter 26 - The Return
- *
- Chapter 27 - The Clyde
- *
- Chapter 28 - Salome
- *
- Chapter 29 - The Streets
- *
- Chapter 30 - The Child's Arm
- *
- Chapter 31 - "Romance"
- *
- Chapter 32 - Mrs. Braiding
- *
- Chapter 33 - The Roof
- *
- Chapter 34 - In the Boudoir
- *
- Chapter 35 - Queen Dead
- *
- Chapter 36 - Collapse
- *
- Chapter 37 - The Invisible Powers
- *
- Chapter 38 - The Victory
- *
- Chapter 39 - Idyll
- *
- Chapter 40 - The Window
- *
- Chapter 41 - The Envoy
- *
- * * *
Lady Queenie had imposed terms on her family, and under threats of rupture, of separation, of scandal, Lady Queenie's exotic nest had come into existence in the very fortress of unchangeable British convention. The phenomenon was a war phenomenon due to the war, begotten by the war; for Lady Queenie had said that if she was to do war-work without disaster to her sanity she must have the right environment. Thus the putting together of Lady Queenie's nest had proceeded concurrently with the building of national projectile factories and of square miles of offices for the girl clerks of ministries and departments of government.
The footman left G.J. alone in a room designated the boudoir. G.J. resented the boudoir, because it was like nothing that he had ever witnessed. The walls were irregularly covered with rhombuses, rhomboids, lozenges, diamonds, triangles, and parallelograms; the carpet was treated likewise, and also the upholstery and the cushions. The colourings of the scene in their excessive brightness, crudity and variety surpassed G.J.'s conception of the possible. He had learned the value of colour before Queen was born, and in the Albany had translated principle into practice. But the hues of the boudoir made the gaudiest effects of Regency furniture appear sombre. The place resembled a gigantic and glittering kaleidoscope deranged and arrested.
G.J.'s glance ran round the room like a hunted animal seeking escape, and found no escape. He was as disturbed as he might have been disturbed by drinking a liqueur on the top of a cocktail. Nevertheless he had to admit that some of the contrasts of pure colour were rather beautiful, even impressive; and he hated to admit it. He was aware of a terrible apprehension that he would never be the same man again, and that henceforth his own abode would be eternally stricken for him with the curse of insipidity. Regaining somewhat his nerve, he looked for pictures. There were no pictures. But every piece of furniture was painted with primitive sketches of human figures, or of flowers, or of vessels, or of animals. On the front of the mantelpiece were perversely but brilliantly depicted, with a high degree of finish, two nude, crouching women who gazed longingly at each other across the impassable semicircular abyss of the fireplace; and just above their heads, on a scroll, ran these words:
"The ways of God are strange."