It became the custom, both at Henleys and at Bedford Park, to say that R. A. M. Stevenson, who frequented both circles, was the better talker. Wilde had been trussed up like a turkey by undergraduates, dragged up and down a hill, his champagne emptied into the ice tub, hooted in the streets of various towns and I think stoned, and no newspaper named him but in scorn; his manner had hardened to meet opposition and at times he allowed one to see an unpardonable insolence. His charm was acquired and systematised, a mask which he wore only when it pleased him, while the charm of Stevenson belonged to him like the colour of his hair. If Stevensons talk became monologue we did not know it, because our one object was to show by our attention that he need never leave off. If thought failed him we would not combat what he had said, or start some new theme, but would encourage him with a question; and one felt that it had been always so from childhood up.

Loading...

未加载完，尝试【刷新】or【关闭小说模式】or【关闭广告屏蔽】。

尝试更换【Firefox浏览器】or【Chrome谷歌浏览器】打开多多收藏！

移动流量偶尔打不开，可以切换电信、联通、Wifi。

收藏网址：www.dd123.cc

(＞人＜；)