Read The Magnificent Spinster for Free Online Page B

against the leather seat. “Don’t you love the smell of leather?”
    â€œMmm, yes.”
    â€œEspecially when it’s mixed with the smell of horse.”
    And for a second then Jane looked at him, really looked at him without shyness, because she felt they were friends. The mood changed, and she began asking him questions about himself, what it was like to be a lawyer and what exactly it meant and how it felt to sit at a desk all day poring over huge volumes, and Maurice found himself telling her things he didn’t often talk about. “Anything worth doing has a lot of tedious work involved, but it’s a little like a hunt. You always hope to find a precedent that will give you something to stand on, so it’s worth all the digging.…”
    And Jane was grateful because he was talking to her quite seriously without condescension.
    â€œWhat do you dream of doing?” she asked.
    â€œDo you really want to know?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œIt’s not ‘of course,’ but I’ll pretend you mean it.”
    â€œI don’t say things I don’t mean.”
    He turned to give her a piercing look. “No, I guess you don’t. Most people do.”
    â€œBecause of what Mamma calls the ‘amenities.’ When you grow up you have to lie a lot of the time.”
    â€œAnd you think you won’t … when you’re grown-up?”
    â€œIt depends on what I decide to do,” Jane said. “I mean I’m not going to be like Viola and Edith, who are only interested in getting married.”
    â€œBravo for you!” Maurice said, smiling at her. “But …”
    â€œOh, I know, people change. They can’t help it. But right now I am who I am, and please tell me your dream.”
    Maurice’s dream was to found a law firm which would be designed to help people who cannot afford a lawyer, who have learned the hard way that they don’t have much of a chance.
    â€œWhat do they do now?” Jane asked, her eyes wide.
    â€œPay up. Go to jail.”
    â€œThat’s awful,” Jane said.
    â€œYes … well, it means getting the government interested. It would have to be financed, so I may have to go into politics first to get anything of the sort accomplished.”
    â€œPappa would like to hear about that,” Jane said.
    But they were now in a throng of carriages on Charles Street, and life outside the cab was so interesting that they became absorbed in watching the drivers pull in and out and Jane became suddenly anxious that they might be late.
    â€œDon’t worry, they’ll hold the curtain for such important people,” Maurice told her.
    And indeed they were settled in their seats, fifth row on the aisle, ten minutes before the curtain went up. “I can’t believe it,” Jane whispered, as the orchestra tuned up in the pit and launched into the prologue of Traviata . “Sarah Bernhardt in Camille.” She was hugging herself with excitement, the bliss of it, leaning forward in her seat, as the lights dimmed and they waited for the immense red curtain to go up. And when it made that slight rustle as it glided upwards she turned to Maurice with a smile of pure joy. But after that, nothing existed for her except what was going on on the stage, except the slight figure in white and the strange haunting slightly nasal voice of Bernhardt. Every now and then Maurice glanced over at the uplifted face beside him, a person literally entranced, totally unaware that she was being observed. He had never before witnessed someone who could give herself up so completely. And he wondered how life would use this power … or abuse it, and what it really was.
    In the intermission he asked if she would like to stretch her legs, but she shook her head, and as she clearly wished not to talk, he left her and went out to the foyer to have a smoke and be greeted by various acquaintances, including his Aunt