edwindvinas/testdataset · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 72

“You see—I’ve never had any real life,” she said. “I’ve just—breathed.
Every door has always been shut to me.”

“But you’re still young,” said Barney.

“Oh, I know. Yes, I’m ‘still young’—but that’s so different from
_young_,” said Valancy bitterly. For a moment she was tempted to tell
Barney why her years had nothing to do with her future; but she did
not. She was not going to think of death tonight.

“Though I never was really young,” she went on—“until tonight,” she
added in her heart. “I never had a life like other girls. You couldn’t
understand. Why,”—she had a desperate desire that Barney should know
the worst about her—“I didn’t even love my mother. Isn’t it awful that
I don’t love my mother?”

“Rather awful—for her,” said Barney drily.

“Oh, she didn’t know it. She took my love for granted. And I wasn’t any
use or comfort to her or anybody. I was just a—a—vegetable. And I got
tired of it. That’s why I came to keep house for Mr. Gay and look after
Cissy.”

“And I suppose your people thought you’d gone mad.”

“They did—and do—literally,” said Valancy. “But it’s a comfort to them.
They’d rather believe me mad than bad. There’s no other alternative.
But I’ve been _living_ since I came to Mr. Gay’s. It’s been a
delightful experience. I suppose I’ll pay for it when I have to go
back—but I’ll have _had_ it.”

“That’s true,” said Barney. “If you buy your experience it’s your own.
So it’s no matter how much you pay for it. Somebody else’s experience
can never be yours. Well, it’s a funny old world.”

“Do you think it really is old?” asked Valancy dreamily. “I never
believe _that_ in June. It seems so young tonight—somehow. In that
quivering moonlight—like a young, white girl—waiting.”

“Moonlight here on the verge of up back is different from moonlight
anywhere else,” agreed Barney. “It always makes me feel so clean,
somehow—body and soul. And of course the age of gold always comes back
in spring.”

It was ten o’clock now. A dragon of black cloud ate up the moon. The
spring air grew chill—Valancy shivered. Barney reached back into the
innards of Lady Jane and clawed up an old, tobacco-scented overcoat.

“Put that on,” he ordered.

“Don’t you want it yourself?” protested Valancy.

“No. I’m not going to have you catching cold on my hands.”

“Oh, I won’t catch cold. I haven’t had a cold since I came to Mr.
Gay’s—though I’ve done the foolishest things. It’s funny, too—I used to
have them all the time. I feel so selfish taking your coat.”

“You’ve sneezed three times. No use winding up your ‘experience’ up
back with grippe or pneumonia.”

He pulled it up tight about her throat and buttoned it on her. Valancy
submitted with secret delight. How nice it was to have some one look
after you so! She snuggled down into the tobaccoey folds and wished the
night could last forever.

Ten minutes later a car swooped down on them from “up back.” Barney
sprang from Lady Jane and waved his hand. The car came to a stop beside
them. Valancy saw Uncle Wellington and Olive gazing at her in horror
from it.

So Uncle Wellington had got a car! And he must have been spending the
evening up at Mistawis with Cousin Herbert. Valancy almost laughed
aloud at the expression on his face as he recognised her. The pompous,
bewhiskered old humbug!

“Can you let me have enough gas to take me to Deerwood?” Barney was
asking politely. But Uncle Wellington was not attending to him.

“Valancy, how came you _here_!” he said sternly.

“By chance or God’s grace,” said Valancy.

“With this jail-bird—at ten o’clock at night!” said Uncle Wellington.

Valancy turned to Barney. The moon had escaped from its dragon and in
its light her eyes were full of deviltry.

“_Are_ you a jail-bird?”

“Does it matter?” said Barney, gleams of fun in _his_ eyes.

“Not to me. I only asked out of curiosity,” continued Valancy.

“Then I won’t tell you. I never satisfy curiosity.” He turned to Uncle
Wellington and his voice changed subtly.

“Mr. Stirling, I asked you if you could let me have some gas. If you
can, well and good. If not, we are only delaying you unnecessarily.”

“You see—I’ve never had any real life,” she said. “I’ve just—breathed.

Every door has always been shut to me.”

“But you’re still young,” said Barney.

“Oh, I know. Yes, I’m ‘still young’—but that’s so different from

_young_,” said Valancy bitterly. For a moment she was tempted to tell

Barney why her years had nothing to do with her future; but she did

not. She was not going to think of death tonight.

“Though I never was really young,” she went on—“until tonight,” she

added in her heart. “I never had a life like other girls. You couldn’t

understand. Why,”—she had a desperate desire that Barney should know

the worst about her—“I didn’t even love my mother. Isn’t it awful that

I don’t love my mother?”

“Rather awful—for her,” said Barney drily.

“Oh, she didn’t know it. She took my love for granted. And I wasn’t any

use or comfort to her or anybody. I was just a—a—vegetable. And I got

tired of it. That’s why I came to keep house for Mr. Gay and look after

Cissy.”

“And I suppose your people thought you’d gone mad.”

“They did—and do—literally,” said Valancy. “But it’s a comfort to them.

They’d rather believe me mad than bad. There’s no other alternative.

But I’ve been _living_ since I came to Mr. Gay’s. It’s been a

delightful experience. I suppose I’ll pay for it when I have to go

back—but I’ll have _had_ it.”

“That’s true,” said Barney. “If you buy your experience it’s your own.

So it’s no matter how much you pay for it. Somebody else’s experience

can never be yours. Well, it’s a funny old world.”

“Do you think it really is old?” asked Valancy dreamily. “I never

believe _that_ in June. It seems so young tonight—somehow. In that

quivering moonlight—like a young, white girl—waiting.”

“Moonlight here on the verge of up back is different from moonlight

anywhere else,” agreed Barney. “It always makes me feel so clean,

somehow—body and soul. And of course the age of gold always comes back

in spring.”

It was ten o’clock now. A dragon of black cloud ate up the moon. The

spring air grew chill—Valancy shivered. Barney reached back into the

innards of Lady Jane and clawed up an old, tobacco-scented overcoat.

“Put that on,” he ordered.

“Don’t you want it yourself?” protested Valancy.

“No. I’m not going to have you catching cold on my hands.”

“Oh, I won’t catch cold. I haven’t had a cold since I came to Mr.

Gay’s—though I’ve done the foolishest things. It’s funny, too—I used to

have them all the time. I feel so selfish taking your coat.”

“You’ve sneezed three times. No use winding up your ‘experience’ up

back with grippe or pneumonia.”

He pulled it up tight about her throat and buttoned it on her. Valancy

submitted with secret delight. How nice it was to have some one look

after you so! She snuggled down into the tobaccoey folds and wished the

night could last forever.

Ten minutes later a car swooped down on them from “up back.” Barney

sprang from Lady Jane and waved his hand. The car came to a stop beside

them. Valancy saw Uncle Wellington and Olive gazing at her in horror

from it.

So Uncle Wellington had got a car! And he must have been spending the

evening up at Mistawis with Cousin Herbert. Valancy almost laughed

aloud at the expression on his face as he recognised her. The pompous,

bewhiskered old humbug!

“Can you let me have enough gas to take me to Deerwood?” Barney was

asking politely. But Uncle Wellington was not attending to him.

“Valancy, how came you _here_!” he said sternly.

“By chance or God’s grace,” said Valancy.

“With this jail-bird—at ten o’clock at night!” said Uncle Wellington.

Valancy turned to Barney. The moon had escaped from its dragon and in

its light her eyes were full of deviltry.

“_Are_ you a jail-bird?”

“Does it matter?” said Barney, gleams of fun in _his_ eyes.

“Not to me. I only asked out of curiosity,” continued Valancy.

“Then I won’t tell you. I never satisfy curiosity.” He turned to Uncle

Wellington and his voice changed subtly.

“Mr. Stirling, I asked you if you could let me have some gas. If you

can, well and good. If not, we are only delaying you unnecessarily.”