She Walks in Beauty by Siri Mitchell Read Free Book Online Page B

attention to the dog and, against all reason, began to speak to it.
    “I hope you’re feeling well today.” Or at least better than yesterday, when it, or one of the other two, had dug up a flower bulb and become violently ill soon thereafter. I wish it had died and saved the rest of us from the stench of its indigestion.
    “No. No. You may absolutely not ask any person about their health.”
    I tried again. “It is so very good to meet you.”
    The dog tilted its head to one side. In that posture, its skull very nearly disappeared into its fur. It looked like cushion. How I wished that I could tuft it with buttons, embroider it with flowers, and give it away as a gift. I smiled. “I have so often wanted to make your acquaintance.”
    Aunt frowned, but she did not interrupt.
    “Did you enjoy the … opera?”
    The dog said nothing.
    “I found it quite uplifting.”
    Aunt coughed. “Remember that the first opera of the season will be Romeo and Juliet .”
    “Uplifting in a tragic sort of way.”
    The dog sighed and reached a foot up to scratch at its ear.
    With starts and stops and prompts from Aunt, I talked to that dog for what seemed like an hour.
    Aunt glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Ten minutes. Not bad. For a start.” She kept me practicing until I could talk for half of an hour without a prompt. “Most likely the opportunity to converse will come during dinner or at some reception or other event where you’ll also be able to ask for a glass of punch or otherwise distract your conversation partner.” She lifted the creature from the table and set it back on her lap. “Now then, a conversation such as that one will always stand you in good stead, even when the person you are conversing with does not wish to respond. Except, of course, if you are being cut.”
    “Being cut?”
    “Being snubbed. In that case it is expected that you would stop speaking and leave the person immediately to his or her own devices.”
    “What if … I am by myself? How would I leave? If I’m not to go anywhere unescorted?”
    Aunt’s brows seemed in danger of disappearing into her hair. “By yourself? When would you be by yourself?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “And neither do I. In any case, the proper way to be cut is not to acknowledge that you have been cut, but simply to pretend that it is your decision—in fact, your greatest desire—to leave that person’s presence.”
    It sounded terribly humiliating. But … “What if I don’t know that I’m being cut?”
    “If you are being cut, you will know it. Someone who knows you will suddenly refuse to acknowledge you. Someone to whom you are waiting to be introduced will turn away just as the introduction is about to be made. There are a hundred ways to cut a person and believe me, all of them will register upon that person. For that, after all, is the intention.”
    I nodded, hoping that it would never happen to me.
    “But you must also learn how to cut.”
    “How to—?”
    “How to snub someone.”
    “Why would I ever want to snub someone?” The dark confines of her room seemed to have swallowed me. Nothing she was saying made sense.
    “Not everyone who has met you need be acknowledged. Especially those you meet at dances.”
    “At dances? Not even those I dance with?” How could I dance with someone without acknowledging him?
    “Especially not those you dance with. Not unless it’s advantageous to know them.”
    “But that doesn’t seem—”
    “A true gentleman will never expect to be acknowledged if the only place he has met you is a dance.”
    “Really?”
    She nodded. “Truly. And in that case, he will provide you with an opportunity either to acknowledge or to cut him.”
    “He will?” Why would he do that?
    “He will. Must I always repeat myself?”
    “No.” If I raised my hand to my head, I was sure I would feel my temple throbbing.
    “Now then. If you do not wish to acknowledge someone, if you wish to cut them, then you must not