Possibly he coloured a little. "Who is that
talking with the lady in saffron?" he asked, avoiding her eyes.
The person in question he learnt was one of the great organisers of the
American theatres just fresh from a gigantic production at Mexico. His
face reminded Graham of a bust of Caligula. Another striking looking man
was the Black Labour Master. The phrase at the time made no deep
impression, but afterwards it recurred;--the Black Labour Master? The
little lady in no degree embarrassed, pointed out to him a charming
little woman as one of the subsidiary wives of the Anglican Bishop of
London. She added encomiums on the episcopal courage--hitherto there had
been a rule of clerical monogamy--"neither a natural nor an expedient
condition of things. Why should the natural development of the affections
be dwarfed and restricted because a man is a priest?"
"And, bye the bye," she added, "are you an Anglican?" Graham was on the
verge of hesitating inquiries about the status of a "subsidiary wife,"
apparently an euphemistic phrase, when Lincoln's return broke off this
very suggestive and interesting conversation. They crossed the aisle to
where a tall man in crimson, and two charming persons in Burmese costume
(as it seemed to him) awaited him diffidently. From their civilities he
passed to other presentations.
In a little while his multitudinous impressions began to organise
themselves into a general effect.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183