An Unsocial Socialist | Page 3

for instance, with most word processors); OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at no additional
cost, fee or expense, a copy of the etext in its original plain ASCII form
(or in EBCDIC or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this "Small
Print!" statement.

[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the net profits
you derive calculated using the method you already use to calculate
your applicable taxes. If you don't derive profits, no royalty is due.
Royalties are payable to "Project Gutenberg
Association/Carnegie-Mellon University" within the 60 days following
each date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) your annual
(or equivalent periodic) tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU
DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, scanning
machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty free copyright
licenses, and every other sort of contribution you can think of. Money
should be paid to "Project Gutenberg Association / Carnegie-Mellon
University".
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN
ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*

This needs a reading check for spelling, -- and other punctuation.
Check for "be bad/he had" typos. Thanks!

Etext prepared by Dianne Bean of Phoenix, Arizona using OmniPage
Pro scanning software donated by Caere.

An Unsocial Socialist
by George Bernard Shaw

CHAPTER I
In the dusk of an October evening, a sensible looking woman of forty
came out through an oaken door to a broad landing on the first floor of
an old English country-house. A braid of her hair had fallen forward as
if she had been stooping over book or pen; and she stood for a moment
to smooth it, and to gaze contemplatively--not in the least

sentimentally--through the tall, narrow window. The sun was setting,
but its glories were at the other side of the house; for this window
looked eastward, where the landscape of sheepwalks and pasture land
was sobering at the approach of darkness.
The lady, like one to whom silence and quiet were luxuries, lingered on
the landing for some time. Then she turned towards another door, on
which was inscribed, in white letters, Class Room No. 6. Arrested by a
whispering above, she paused in the doorway, and looked up the stairs
along a broad smooth handrail that swept round in an unbroken curve at
each landing, forming an inclined plane from the top to the bottom of
the house.
A young voice, apparently mimicking someone, now came from above,
saying,
"We will take the Etudes de la Velocite next, if you please, ladies."
Immediately a girl in a holland dress shot down through space; whirled
round the curve with a fearless centrifugal toss of her ankle; and
vanished into the darkness beneath. She was followed by a stately girl
in green, intently holding her breath as she flew; and also by a large
young woman in black, with her lower lip grasped between her teeth,
and her fine brown eyes protruding with excitement. Her passage
created a miniature tempest which disarranged anew the hair of the lady
on the landing, who waited in breathless alarm until two light shocks
and a thump announced that the aerial voyagers had landed safely in
the hall.
"Oh law!" exclaimed the voice that had spoken before. "Here's Susan."
"It's a mercy your neck ain't broken," replied some palpitating female.
"I'll tell of you this time, Miss Wylie; indeed I will. And you, too, Miss
Carpenter: I wonder at you not to have more sense at your age and with
your size! Miss Wilson can't help hearing when you come down with a
thump like that. You shake the whole house."
Oh bother!" said Miss Wylie. "The Lady Abbess takes good care to

shut out all the noise we make. Let us--"
"Girls," said the lady above, calling down quietly, but with ominous
distinctness.
Silence and utter confusion ensued. Then came a reply, in a tone of
honeyed sweetness, from Miss Wylie:
"Did you call us, DEAR Miss Wilson?"
"Yes. Come up here, if you please, all three."
There was some hesitation among them, each offering the other
precedence. At last they went up slowly, in the order, though not at all
in the manner, of their flying descent; followed Miss Wilson into the
class-room; and stood in a row before her, illumined through three
western windows with a glow of ruddy orange light. Miss Carpenter,
the largest of the three, was red and confused. Her arms hung by her
sides, her fingers twisting the folds of her dress. Miss Gertrude Lindsay,
in pale sea-green, had a small head, delicate complexion, and pearly
teeth. She stood erect, with an expression of cold distaste for reproof of
any sort. The holland dress of