And once I did to my sister! She, unfortunately, understands
French. I suppose it's a good thing you don't."
"Louis, do you say--_wrong_ things in French" she whispered.
"Things--you know, beastly things?"
He hesitated a moment and an impulse of honesty made him tell her the
truth.
"Yes, I believe I say perfectly appalling things. You see--it's like
this. I'm a queer inhibited sort of thing, dear. I'm always--till you
took me in hand--fighting drink. I'm in a state of fighting and
inhibiting. I've always been like that. Even when I was a little kid I
was afraid to be natural because I was taught that the natural impulse
was the wrong one. I sometimes want to say something frightfully
charming to you, and don't for fear it's silly. I'm always wondering
what people will think of me--because I'm so often wrong, you know."
"I just don't care what anyone says or thinks," she broke in.
"There's the difference between us, then. Well, you see, being an
ordinary, average sort of human being, I think a lot about girls and all
that. Only deep down is the puritanical old idea that it's wicked to do
so. Really, honestly, Marcella, I'm not pulling your leg--when I first
started dissecting at the hospital, I felt horribly indecent. It was a
female thigh! I felt as if it ought to be clothed, somehow--I sort of
kept thinking the Pater or someone would come into the lab, and round on
me for being immoral.
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