LIFE AND LETTERS
985
surely wouldn't wish a religious sentiment to have a meaning.
It
wouldn't be at all edifying. I doubt
if
it would even be proper."
Elspeth smiled to herself in the conviction of her own private creed.
"No, it's the phrase 'bruised reed' that I detest" said Mrs. Searle.
"It reminds me too much of 'broken reed.' Have you ever been in the
W.V.S.?" she went on. "Oh blessed generation! Well,
I
have. Henry
made me join the Oxford W.V.S. during the war, he said it was my
duty. A curious sort of duty, I did nothing but serve cups of sweet
dishwater to men with bad teeth. But what I was thinking of was the
way all the women talked in cliches-throughout the winter they des–
cribed themselves as 'chilly mortals,' and whenever anyone failed to
do some particularly absurd task, as I frequently did, they call them
'broken reeds.' But I am keeping you from your work, Miss Eccles" she
went on "and Henry will never forgive that. It must be wonderful
for you both to have a common interest in so many vulgar people.
Though perhaps in the case of the Shelley circle, as I believe it's called
-it is Shelley you're working on?"-It was the seventh time in five
days that she had asked the question, Elspeth noted-"as I say in the
case of the Shelleys it is more their priggish refinement than their
vulgarity that revolts me."
"Perhaps it's their basic honesty you dislike" said Elspeth. "Very
likely" said Mrs. Searle "I hadn't realized that they were particularly
honest. But if that were so, of course, I should certainly dislike it.
How very nice it must be to know things, Miss Eccles, and go about
hitting nails on the head like that. But seriously, you mustn't let me
keep you from the Shelleys and their orgy of honesty." On Elspeth's
assurance that she would like to remain with her, Mrs. Searle sug–
gested that they should go together to gather gooseberries in the
kitchen garden.
Elspeth watched her depart to collect a basin from the house. It
was difficult, she thought, to believe that people had once spoken of
her as the "incomparable Miranda." Of course the very use of such
names suggested an affected gallantry for which the world no longer
had time, but, apart from that, the .almost Belsen-like emaciation of
figure and features, the wild, staring eyes and the whispy hair that
defied control hardly suggested a woman who had inspired poets and
tempted young diplomats; a woman whose influence had reached be–
yond University society to the world of literary
Lond~n,
rivalling
