Bliss, and other stories

ad of walk, to take dancing steps on and off the pavement, to bowl a hoop, to throw something

ling of bliss-absolute bliss!-as though you’d suddenly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun and it

disorderly” ? How idiotic civilisation is! Why be given a body i

nd feeling in her bag for the key-she’d forgotten it, as usual-and rattling the letter-bo

s,

the fru

Everythin

ning-room, will you? I’ll arr

same Bertha threw off her coat; she could not bear the tight

of fanning it higher, and yet she breathed deeply, deeply. She hardly dared to look into the cold mirror-but she did look, and it gave her back a woman, radiant, wit

ass bowl, and a blue dish, very lovely, with a stran

rn on the l

ou. I can se

r of purple ones. These last she had bought to tone in with the new dining-room carpet. Yes, that did sound rather far-fetched and absurd, but it was really why

the effect-and it really was most curious. For the dark table seemed to melt into the dusky light and the glass dish and th

” And she seized her bag and coa

a white flannel gown and a blue woollen jacket, and her dark, fine hair was brushed

setting her lips in a way that Bertha knew, and that me

been good

nd I sat down on a chair and took her out of the pram and a big dog came along and put

ange dog’s ear. But she did not dare to. She stood watching them, her hands b

tared, and then smiled so charming

giving her her supper while

le she’s eating,” said Nanny, still whispering.

has to be kept-not in a case like a rare,

must!”

d, Nanny han

upper. You know you do, M’m. And I

went out of the room

little precious,” said Bertha,

ing her hands. Sometimes she wouldn’t let the spoon go; and sometime

he fire. “You’re nice-you’re very nice!” said she,

te toes as they shone transparent in the firelight-that all her feeling of bliss

,” said Nanny, coming back in t

flew. It

take a taxi and come along as quickly as I can, but

fectly. O

es

wanted to get in touch with him for a moment. She

rapped out the

hung up the receiver, thinking how m

ddie Warren, who had just published a little book of poems and whom everybody was asking to dine, and a “find” of Bertha’s called Pearl Fulton. What Miss Fulton did, Ber

s and really talked, Bertha couldn’t make her out. Up to a certain point Miss Fulton was r

d “cold like all blonde women, with a touch, perhaps, of anaemia of

le on one side, and smiling, has something behind it

s a good stomach

frozen, my dear girl,” or “pure flatulence,” or “kidney disease,” . . . and so on.

hem back on to the chairs and the couches. That made all the difference; the room came alive at once. As she was about to throw the last one she

almed against the jade-green sky. Bertha couldn’t help feeling, even from this distance, that it had not a single bud or a faded petal. Down below, in the garden beds, the red and yellow tulips, heavy with f

mered, and she turned away from the win

strong? Oh, no. And yet, as though overcome, she flu

y-too happy!”

he lovely pear tree with its wide open

ry about money. They had this absolutely satisfactory house and garden. And friends-modern, thrilling friends, writers and painters and poets or people keen on social questions-just the kind of friends the

but she felt quite dizzy, quite dr

e was so tired she could not d

tockings. It wasn’t intentional. She had thought of this

rman Knight, who was taking off the most amusing orange coat wi

I am here at all–Norman being the protective fluke. For my darling monkeys so upset the train that it rose to a man and simpl

telling this, Face, do you?” (In their home and among their friends they called each other Face and Mug.) “The cream

joined in the laughter. “Wasn’

ery intelligent monkey– who had even made that yellow silk dress out of scrap

Little B’s perambulator. “When the perambulator comes int

pale Eddie Warren (as usual)

t house, isn’t

I hope so,” said

t get him to stop. The more I knocked and called the faster he went. And in the moonlig

ite silk scarf. Bertha noticed that hi

readful!”

her into the drawing-room. “I saw myself d

he was going to write a play for N.

pping his monocle and giving his eye a moment in which

ght: “Oh, Mr. Warre

eem to have got so much whiter since the moon rose.” And he turned

: “I am sure ther

fore the fire in her banana skins, and so was Mug, smoking a cigaret

he is

uldn’t help smiling; she knew how he loved doing things at high pressure. What, after all, did an extra five minutes matter? But he would pretend t

is courage-that, too, she understood. Even when it made him just occasionally, to other people, who didn’t know him well, a little ridiculous perhaps. . . . For there were moments w

Miss Fulton h

aid Harry. “Is s

tle air of proprietorship that she always assumed while he

arry coolly, ringing the bell for dinne

arned Bertha, la

ch at their ease, a trifle too unaware. And then Miss Fulton, all in silver, with a sil

I la

me along.” And she took her arm an

t could fan-fan-start blazing-blazing-the fire o

nt upon her lips as though she lived by listening rather than seeing. But Bertha knew, suddenly, as if the longest, most intimate look had passed between th

ising and falling-dabbing their lips with their napkins, crum

y cut off her hair, but she seemed to have taken a dreadfully good sni

ry liée with

wrote Love in

Gives all the reasons why he should and why he shouldn’t. And just as he has

to call it–‘Sto

ame idea in a lit-tle French re

them delicious food and wine. In fact, she longed to tell them how delightful they were, and what a decora

pose-his-something or other-to talk about food and to glory in his “shameless passion for the white fla

this is a very admirable soufflée! “ she alm

d tonight? Everything was good-was right. All that ha

in the light of poor dear Eddie’s moon, silver as Miss Fulton, who sat there turning

guessed Miss Fulton’s mood so exactly and so instantly. For she never doubted f

Never between men,” thought Bertha. “But while I am making th

ot know, and what would happen a

erself talking and laughing. She had

laugh

he front of her bodice-as if she kept a tiny, secret hoard of nuts there,

“Come and see my new cof

night,” said Harry. Face took her arm this tim

wing-room to a red, flickering “n

wn she crouched by the fire again. She was always cold . . . “w

Miss Fulton “

en?” said the co

could do was to obey. She crossed the room, pulled

” she b

still it seemed, like the flame of a candle, to stretch up, to point, to quiver in the bright

ach other perfectly, creatures of another world, and wondering what they were to do in this one with all t

Miss Fulton murmur: “Yes. Just

shan’t feel the slightest interest in her until she has a lover,” and Mug took his eye out of the conservatory for a moment and then put i

London is simply teeming with first-chop, unwritten plays. W

I am so tempted to do a fried-fish scheme, with the backs of the chairs shape

romantic. You can’t put out to sea without being seasick and want

was violated by a beggar without

west, deepest chair and Harr

inian? They’re all mixed up,” Bertha realised that she not only bored him; he really disliked her. And she

, besides, how can you feel so differently about someone who means so much to me. I shall try

thing blind and smiling whispered to her: “Soon these people will go. The house will be quiet-quiet.

her chair and ran

t play!” she cried. “What a

ot in that way. And equally, of course, she’d understood that he was different. They’d discussed it so often. It had worried her dreadfully at first to fin

f bliss had been leading up to? But then, then– “My dear,” said Mrs. Norman Knight, “you kn

ha. “I loved having you. But you must not mis

night, before you

anks, o

his hand for tha

the top step, feeling that this self of

the drawing-room the

an come part of th

have to face another drive alon

at the end of the street. You won’t

rt. I’ll go and

hall and Bertha was following

e help

udeness-she let him go. What a boy he w

she were lef

t’s so wonderful. In the last Anthology. Have you got a copy? I’d so like to show it to

e drawing-room door and Eddie glided noiselessly after her. She pick

bent. He tossed the coat away, put his hands on her shoulders and turned her violently to him. His lips said: “I adore you,” and Miss Fulton laid her moonbeam fingers on his c

be Tomato Soup?’ It’s so deeply true, don’t y

, very loud, from the hall, “I can

s Fulton, and she came up to Bertha an

Thank you

e,” said

ld her hand a

pear tree!”

ddie following, like the blac

aid Harry, extravagant

ear tree-pear

ran over to th

ing to happen n

lovely as ever and as ful