Elizabeth Frances Corbett: Born : 1846: Died : 1930
Excerpt
THAT Saturday in May when he went out to the Evingtons’ for the week-end, Jim Whittaker was by way of liking everything. He liked his time of life, for one thing: he had passed the glorious but fussy period of youth and had not yet begun to settle into the shadow of middle age. He was a bachelor, with no definite prospect of becoming anything else, though he looked vaguely forward to establishing a household of his own some day, when freedom should have lost a little of its sweetness. Meanwhile women troubled him very little. He had ceased to regard them as a class, and was beginning to think of them as individuals; but none of them had as yet made herself too individual for his comfort Pending the arrival of such a disturber, he had ordered his life very nicely, dividing his time about equally between business, culture, and sport, with the balance inclining of late rather toward culture. He considered himself the most rational of men, although, as he was aware, the run of opinion among his friends was that his head was always a little in the clouds.
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