Mauritius

The image also becomes graceful.Mrs. Hall attributed it to the mustache on his lips. "Maurice's moustache would make him." Her remark went deeper than she realized.That little black line really gave the expression of his face a charm, so that when he smiled his teeth stood out.Maurice was also very good at dressing, and on Durham's advice he wore flannel trousers even on Sundays.

He smiled at Miss Alcott—as if he should, and she smiled back.He served her physically, sat her in the sidecar of his brand new motorcycle, took her out for rides.He stretched out and lay at her feet.He found her smoking.persuaded her to stay with him in the dining room.When it was just the two of them, he asked her to look into his eyes.The blue water mist trembled, and melted into walls one by one, and Morris also imagined it.Fresh air wafted in through an open window and everything suddenly disappeared.He saw that she was satisfied.His mother, sisters, and servants were also aroused with great curiosity.He made up his mind to keep going.

Then it failed.Maurice complimented her on how fine her hair was, etc.She tried to stop him, but he was insensitive and didn't know he was annoying her.He had read in books that girls always pretended to stop men who flattered them.He clings to her.On the last day, she excused herself and refused to sit in the sidecar of his motorcycle. , So he played the role of domineering big man.Miss Alcott was visiting, and had to go for a ride with him.He took her to a scenic spot he thought was full of romance, and held her two small hands with both hands.

Miss Alcott did not object to her being held.Other men had done it, and Maurice would not be dissatisfied if she knew how to do it.But she felt something was wrong, his touch repelled her, it felt like it came from a dead body.She jumped up and called, "Mr. Hall, don't be so stupid. I mean, don't be so stupid. I don't say that to make you do something stupider."

"Miss Alcott—Gladys—I'd rather die than offend you—" the young man growled, intending to continue to deal with her.

"I've got to take the train back," she said, sobbing, "I've got to take the train, excuse me." She got home before him, told a proper little lie, got a headache, got sand in her eyes.Yet his family sensed something was wrong.

Aside from this hiccup, the holidays were enjoyable.Maurice read some books, not so much under the tutelage of his tutor, as at Durham's advice.He's convinced he's grown up, and he does a thing or two to confirm it.He encouraged his mother to fire the Howells, who for years had paralyzed the family's outdoor activities, and to replace the wagon with a sedan.Everyone was convinced, including the Howells.He also visited an old partner of his father's.Maurice inherited some business talent and a fortune from his father.So Morris decided to join Hill and Hall Securities Trading Company as a member without shareholder qualification after graduating from Cambridge.He will step into the field that England has prepared for him and is very suitable for him.

Maurice had reached a remarkable mental level last term, but the holidays had dragged him back to the level of a public-school student.He's less alert, and is back to acting as he thinks people expect him to do -- which is dangerous for the unimaginative.His spirit was not in total darkness, and cloud shadows often passed over it.Miss Alcott was a thing of the past, and the hypocrisy that had led him to her was still there.His family is the main reason why this happened.This time, he had to realize that they were stronger than him and had incalculable influence on him.After three weeks with them, his thoughts became disorganized and his feelings became fragile.Everything seemed to be winning, but overall it was a complete failure.When he went back to school, he thought and talked exactly like his mother or Ada.

Maurice was unaware of his degeneration until Durham returned to school.Due to poor health Durham did not return until a few days late.When his face, paler than usual, appeared at the door looking into the house.A wave of despair came over Maurice.He tried to remember where the two of them had stood last term, looking for clues to continue the fight.He feels that he has become lazy and afraid to act.The worst part of his inner world was coming to the surface, urging him to seek comfort rather than pleasure.

"Hi, man!" he said awkwardly.

Durham slipped in without a word.

"What happened to you?"

"It's nothing." Maurice said, realizing that he had lost the clue.In the last semester, he understood why Durham walked in silently.

"Sit down first."

Durham found a corner where Maurice couldn't reach, and sat down on the floor.It was dusk, and the sounds of the term in May, the scent of flowers in the Cambridge landscape, came in through the window and said to Maurice: "You are not worthy to be one of us." He knew that his body was a quarter dead Three, a stranger at Cambridge, a countryman who came to Athens.He is not qualified to stay with such a friend.

"Hi, Durham..."

Durham moved closer to him.Maurice held out a hand and felt Durham resting his head on his arm.He forgot what he wanted to say.The Voice and the Fragrance whispered: "You are one of us, we are young." He stroked Durham's hair as tenderly as he caressed Durham's head, and inserted his fingers into Durham's hair between.

"Hi Durham, how have you been?"

"What about you?"

"not good."

"You wrote that you were fine."

"It's not good at all."

The truth in his voice made him shudder. "The vacation sucked and I didn't realize it." Maurice wondered how much he'd learned.He was sure the fog would come down again, and with a sullen sigh he drew Durham's head to his lap as if it were a magic weapon that would enable him to live sensibly.Durham's head remained motionless.Maurice discovered a new way of expressing tenderness--a constant stroke from Durham's temple to throat.Then he moved his hands away, drooping at his sides, and sat there sighing.

"Hall."

Maurice moved his eyes to Durham's face.

"What's on your mind?"

Maurice caressed again, then withdrew his hand.It certainly looked like he didn't even have a single friend.

"What does it have to do with that girl?"

"No."

"You said in your letter that you liked her."

"I never liked her—nor do I now."

He broke out several deeper sighs.They rattled in his throat, turning into moans.He threw his head back, forgetting that Durham's head was on his lap, that Durham was watching his confused distress.He stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, his mouth was lined and crow's feet appeared at the corners of his eyes.Man was created to feel pain and loneliness without God's protection, and he understands nothing else.

Then Durham reached out and stroked his hair.The two of them embraced each other.In a few moments they were lying there chest to chest, with their heads on each other's shoulders.However, as soon as the two of them put their faces together, someone called "Hall" in the yard, and he agreed.As long as someone calls him, he always agrees immediately.There was a jerk in both men, and Durham leapt up to the mantelpiece, resting his head on his arms.A mob of fools rushed up the stairs.They asked for tea, Maurice pointed out where the tea service was, and was drawn into their conversation, barely paying attention to his friend's farewell.He told himself that the conversation between him and Durham was ordinary, but too sentimental.He prepared himself to look indifferent and jovial the next time he saw Durham.

They met soon after.After the dinner, Maurice walked to the theater with five or six people.Durham called him back.

"I know you read the Symposium on vacation," he whispered.

Maurice felt uneasy.

"Then you'll understand—I don't need to say anything."

"What do you mean by that?"

Durham couldn't wait, and despite all the people around him, his blue eyes were full of enthusiasm, and he whispered to Maurice, "I love you."

Maurice felt indignant and horrified.The narrow mind of his suburbanite, deeply shocked, exclaimed, "Oh, don't talk nonsense!" He could not restrain himself. "You're an Englishman, Durham, and so am I. Don't say nonsense. You don't hurt my feelings, because I know you don't mean it. Yet, you know, it's the only subject that's absolutely taboo. It's The worst crime listed in the University Directory. You must never say it again. Durham! It is indeed a despicable insincerity..."

But his friend was gone, gone without a word.Durham flew across the yard, and through the spring noise came the slam of the outer door of his room.