"
I laughed abruptly.
"Well, that's Mr. Grundy in one mood--and it puts Mrs. Grundy--She's a
much-maligned person, Ponderevo--a rake at heart--and it puts her in a
most painful state of fluster--most painful! She's an amenable creature.
When Grundy tells her things are shocking, she's shocked--pink and
breathless. She goes about trying to conceal her profound sense of guilt
behind a haughty expression....
"Grundy, meanwhile, is in a state of complete whirlabout. Long lean
knuckly hands pointing and gesticulating! 'They're still thinking of
things--thinking of things! It's dreadful. They get it out of books.
I can't imagine where they get it! I must watch! There're people over
there whispering! Nobody ought to whisper!--There's something suggestive
in the mere act! Then, pictures! In the museum--things too dreadful for
words. Why can't we have pure art--with the anatomy all wrong and pure
and nice--and pure fiction pure poetry, instead of all this stuff with
allusions--allusions?... Excuse me! There's something up behind that
locked door! The keyhole! In the interests of public morality--yes, Sir,
as a pure good man--I insist--I'LL look--it won't hurt me--I insist on
looking my duty--M'm'm--the keyhole!'"
He kicked his legs about extravagantly, and I laughed again.
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