He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. ‘Typical. My reception at West Kensington you know of. “Now she’s all hat and ideas,” he said, with an air of humor. It wasn’t so much women as Woman that engaged his mind. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine.
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