The Enchanted April, Part 7 of 15
The Sleepy Bookshelf
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The Last Gap in the Life of Mrs. Fisher
Mrs. Fisher was overtaken by that strange masculinity that sometimes pursues a woman during the last lapse of her life. She had seen with her own eyes Tennyson turn away from everybody, turn, positively his back on a crowd of eminent people assembled to do him honour. A Mrs. Fisher, then a girl, had laid her head on the red velvet parapet of the front row of the dress circle and wept aloud. The past got herself, her eyes fixed on Mrs. Fisher in what felt to her an indignant stare but appeared to Mrs. Fisher as charming docility.
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