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THE CLIMBER
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"It is dreadful that I haven't set eyes on you all these weeks," she said, "for I don't count meeting you at a ball as setting eyes on you. One never truly meets a friend at a ball; people don't go to balls, they only send their society-wraiths there."

There was a neatness of phrase about this that surprised Lucia. Maud was not apt in speech; she was reticent, and found expression difficult, and this little bit of social criticism was astonishingly trenchant. Lucia loved all that was clean-cut.

"Ah, that is quite brilliant," she said. "I have long wanted to know what gave the air of unreality to all parties. You have absolutely defined it; there is nobody there; it is only the society-wraiths of people one knows that crowd the room. Yet is there nobody who is genuine all the time? I should have thought that you were. To have moods doesn't mean that you are not genuine, for moods are not poses. Though one is all sorts of different people, they are all oneself. But don't let us talk about abstract questions yet. I want to know all your year's history; I want you to know mine. Let us talk about ourselves entirely for half an hour."

Maud smiled at her with that old sweetness and serenity that Lucia knew so well, and at this moment somehow envied. Three years ago Maud had been the fairy godmother who gave Lucia London treats, and though the positions were reversed, for Lucia quite meant to give her old friend treats now, she wondered if it was really possible to do anything for one who was so evidently happy. That word came to Maud's lips, too.

"Of course, I want to know everything in detail," she said, "but it is all summed up in a word. I do hope you are quite happy, Lucia."


Suddenly Lucia thought she was not, if she compared herself to Maud. She had certain clouds, after all; Maud looked as if she had none. She enjoyed herself quite enormously, and never till this moment had she wondered whether that was the same as happiness. For the present, in any case, she assumed that it was.

"Happy? Yes, brilliantly happy," she said. "It has all been the most wonderful success, and I am sure Edgar is happy, too. We both want still; that is such a good thing, for I think that happiness really ends when you have all you wish for. That must be so dull."