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290
Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story
·
Sir Max Beerbohm
225
Nothing
hindered.
There
was
yet
a
whole
hour
before
he
need
start
for
the
river.
His
eyes
dilated,
somewhat
as
might
those
of
a
child
about
to
“dress
up”
for
a
charade;
and
already,
in
his
impatience,
he
had
undone
his
neck-tie.
One
after
another,
he
unlocked
and
threw
open
the
black
tin
boxes,
snatching
out
greedily
their
great
good
splendours
of
crimson
and
white
and
royal
blue
and
gold.
You
wonder
he
was
not
appalled
by
the
task
of
essaying
unaided
a
toilet
so
extensive
and
so
intricate?
You
wondered
even
when
you
heard
that
he
was
wont
at
Oxford
to
make
without
help
his
toilet
of
every
day.
Well,
the
true
dandy
is
always
capable
of
such
high
independence.
He
is
craftsman
as
well
as
artist.
And,
though
any
unaided
Knight
but
he
with
whom
we
are
here
concerned
would
belike
have
doddered
hopeless
in
that
labyrinth
of
hooks
and
buckles
which
underlies
the
visible
glory
of
a
Knight
“arraied
full
and
proper,”
Dorset
threaded
his
way
featly
and
without
pause.
He
had
mastered
his
first
excitement.
In
his
swiftness
was
no
haste.
His
procedure
had
the
ease
and
inevitability
of
a
natural
phenomenon,
and
was
most
like
to
the
coming
of
a
rainbow.
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