Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
1
290
Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
14
Yet
was
there
nothing
Narcissine
in
her
spirit.
Her
love
for
her
own
image
was
not
cold
aestheticism.
She
valued
that
image
not
for
its
own
sake,
but
for
sake
of
the
glory
it
always
won
for
her.
In
the
little
remote
music-hall,
where
she
was
soon
appearing
nightly
as
an
“early
turn,”
she
reaped
glory
in
a
nightly
harvest.
She
could
feel
that
all
the
gallery-boys,
because
of
her,
were
scornful
of
the
sweethearts
wedged
between
them,
and
she
knew
that
she
had
but
to
say
“Will
any
gentleman
in
the
audience
be
so
good
as
to
lend
me
his
hat?”
for
the
stalls
to
rise
as
one
man
and
rush
towards
the
platform.
But
greater
things
were
in
store
for
her.
She
was
engaged
at
two
halls
in
the
West
End.
Her
horizon
was
fast
receding
and
expanding.
Homage
became
nightly
tangible
in
bouquets,
rings,
brooches--things
acceptable
and
(luckier
than
their
donors)
accepted.
Even
Sunday
was
not
barren
for
Zuleika:
modish
hostesses
gave
her
postprandially
to
their
guests.
Came
that
Sunday
night,
notanda
candidissimo
calculo!
when
she
received
certain
guttural
compliments
which
made
absolute
her
vogue
and
enabled
her
to
command,
thenceforth,
whatever
terms
she
asked
for.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
