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    石家庄银河网“Why, I don’t know anyone who’d resent it MORE— so proud and touchy as you are! And since home truths were the order of the day,” she added: “You know, dear, its just this: you’ve only yourself to thank for the fix you’re in. You’ve cut yourself off from every one, and now, when you need help, you haven’t a soul to turn to. And because I have, and make use of them, then your pride’s hurt.”


    “Blake? Absurd! Good Lord, no! . . . Blake needs watching.” (Richard knew all about it to-night.) No, no: this was no flashy dare-devil, but a steady-going, cautious sort of fellow, who could be trusted to “look after your interests during your absence, and transmit THE interest . . . ha, ha! — Oh, and I must tell you this, Mary. When he said — Purdy, I mean —‘I believe I know some one who’d suit you, Dick,’ where do you suppose my thoughts flew? They went back, love, to a day more years ago than I care to count, when he used the self-same words. We were riding to Geelong together, he and I, two carefree young men — heigh-ho! — and not many hours after, I had the honour of meeting a certain young lady . . . Well, wife, if this introduction turns out but half as well as that, I shall have no cause to complain. Anyway, I took it as a good omen. We hadn’t time then to go further into the matter; but I am to meet him again to-morrow and hear all details.”
    Meanwhile, thought his wife, he was in his element, all tenderness and consideration for John — he went to endless trouble in procuring for him the newest make of water-bed — which was just what one would expect of Richard. Nor would he have him teased about religious questions or his approaching end. On the other hand, had John shown the least desire for religious consolation, Richard would have been the person to see that he got it.
    “Not when it’s a case of life or death I haven’t. Dear, don’t you think you could manage to overlook what’s happened? . . . not stand on etiquette? If the boy should die, you’d reproach yourself bitterly for not having gone.”


    1.Richard . . . The question that teased Mary was, should she tell him what she had heard, or keep it to herself? In one way she agreed with Lizzie that he ought to know, he being so fastidious in his views. Besides, if he heard it from some other source, he might feel aggrieved that she had held back. On the other hand, his knowing would probably curtail, if not put a stop altogether to his and Gracey’s experiments: he wouldn’t want to give people food for talk. And that would be a pity. Would it be disloyal to say nothing? Disloyal to Gracey to tell what she so plainly wished to keep dark? But Richard came first. — And here again, unlike poor Louisa, Mary felt she could weigh the matter very calmly; for in her was a feeling nothing could shake: the happily married woman’s sense of possession. It was not only the fact of Richard being what he was. Their life together rested on the surest of foundations: the experiences of many, how many years; the trials and tribulations they had been through together; the joys they had shared; the laughs they had had over things and people; a complete knowledge of each other’s prejudices and antipathies — who else could unlock, with half a word, the rich storehouse of memories they had in common? Homelier things, too, there were in plenty, which bound no less closely: the airing and changing of your underlinen; how sweet or how strong you drank your coffee; how you liked your bed made; your hatred of the touch of steel on fruit; of a darn in a sock. — Deeper down though, pushed well below the topmost layer of her consciousness, just one unspoken fear DID lurk. If she told Richard what she had heard, and he did not take it in the spirit he had hitherto invariably shown towards irregularities of this kind, Mary knew she would feel both hurt and humiliated. Not for herself — but for him.
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