Поворот винта

           Itwasstrikingofthechildren,atallevents,tokissmeinveteratelywithakindofwildirrelevanceandnevertofail—oneortheother—ofthepreciousquestionthathadhelpedusthroughmanyaperil.“Whendoyouthinkhewillcome?Don’tyouthinkweoughttowrite?”—therewasnothinglikethatinquiry,wefoundbyexperience,forcarryingoffanawkwardness.“He”ofcoursewastheiruncleinHarleyStreet;andwelivedinmuchprofusionoftheorythathemightatanymomentarrivetomingleinourcircle.Itwasimpossibletohavegivenlessencouragementthanhehaddonetosuchadoctrine,butifwehadnothadthedoctrinetofallbackuponweshouldhavedeprivedeachotherofsomeofourfinestexhibitions.Heneverwrotetothem—thatmayhavebeenselfish,butitwasapartoftheflatteryofhistrustofme;forthewayinwhichamanpayshishighesttributetoawomanisapttobebutbythemorefestalcelebrationofoneofthesacredlawsofhiscomfort;andIheldthatIcarriedoutthespiritofthepledgegivennottoappealtohimwhenIletmychargesunderstandthattheirownletterswerebutcharmingliteraryexercises.Theyweretoobeautifultobeposted;Ikeptthemmyself;Ihavethemalltothishour.Thiswasaruleindeedwhichonlyaddedtothesatiriceffectofmybeingpliedwiththesuppositionthathemightatanymomentbeamongus.Itwasexactlyasifmychargesknewhowalmostmoreawkwardthananythingelsethatmightbeforme