Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (127 page)

Nothing
changes
a
man,
however,
after
he
has
once
achieved
his type:
that
was
what
I
felt
most
keenly,
at
the
end
of
the
evening,
as I
sat
with
Lithway
in
his
library.
Mrs.
Lithway
had
trailed
her
light skirts
up
the
staircase
with,
incomparable
grace,
smiling
back
at
us over
her
shoulder;
and
I
had
gone
with
Lithway
to
the
library, wondering
how
long
I
could
hold
him
with
talk
of
anything
but
her. I
soon
saw
that
he
didn't
wish
to
talk
of
her.
That,
after
all,
was comprehensible—you
could
take
it
in
so
many
ways;
but
it
was
with real
surprise
that
I
saw
him
sink
almost
immediately
into
gloom. Gloom
had
never
been
a
gift
of
Lithway's;
his
indolence
had
always been
shot
through
with
mirth.
Even
his
absorption
in
the
ghost
had been
whimsical—almost
as
if
he
had
deliberately
let
himself
go,
had chosen
to
be
obsessed.
I
didn't
know
what
to
make
of
the
gloom, the
unresilient
heaviness
with
which
he
met
my
congratulations
and my
sallies.
They
had
been
perfect
together
at
dinner
and
through the
early
evening.
Now
he
fell
slack
in
every
muscle
and
feature,
as if
the
preceding
hours
had
been
a
diabolic
strain.
I
wondered
a
little if
he
could
be
worried
about
money.
I
supposed
Lithway
had
enough —and
his
bride
too,
if
it
came
to
that—though
I
didn't
know
how much.
But
one
could
not
be
long
in
the
house
without
noticing luxuries
that
had
nothing
to
do
with
its
original
unpretending
comfort.
You
were
met
at
every
turn
by
some
aesthetic
refinement
as costly
as
the
lace
and
jewels
in
which
Mrs.
Lithway's
own
loveliness was
wrapped.
It
was
evident
from
all
her
talk
that
her
standard
of civilization
was
very
high;
that
she
had
a
natural
attachment
to shining
non-essentials.
I
was
at
a
loss;
I
didn't
know
what
to
say
to him,
he
looked
so
tired.
Such
silence,
even
between
Lithway
and
me, was
awkward.

Finally
he
spoke:
"Do
you
remember
my
ghost?"

"I
remember
your
deafening
me
with
talk
of
her.
I
never
saw
her."

"No,
of
course
you
wouldn't
have
seen
her."

"I
saw
one
of
my
own,
you
remember."

"Oh,
yes!
A
black
man
who
struck
at
you.
You
never
have
had a
black
man
strike
at
you
in
real
life,
have
you?"
He
turned
to
me with
a
faint
flicker
of
interest.

"Never.
We
threshed
all
that
out
before,
you
know.
I
never
even saw
that
particular
nigger
except
at
Braythe."

"You
will
see
him,
perhaps,
if
you
are
fool
enough
to
go
to
British Central
Africa,"
he
jerked
out.

"Perhaps,"
I
answered.
But
I
was
more
interested
in
Lithway's adventure.
"Do
you
see
your
ghost
now?"
I
had
been
itching
to
ask, and
it
seemed
to
me
that
he
had
given
me
a
fair
opening.