'I have promised Edith.... I really do wish you would come.'
'My dear Emily, it is quite impossible: do let me get on with my work!'
Emily's face instantly changed expression; she turned to leave the room,
and Hubert had to go after her and beg her to forgive him--he really had
not meant to be rude to her.
'You don't care to talk to me. I am not clever enough for you.'
Then pity took him, and he made amends by suggesting they should go for a
walk in the park, and she often succeeded in leading him even to dry,
uninteresting neighbours. But the burden grew heavier, and soon he could
endure no longer the evenings of devotion to her in the drawing-room, where
the presence of Mrs. Bentley seemed to fill her with incipient rebellion.
One evening after dinner, as he was about to escape up-stairs, Emily took
his arm, pleading that he should play at least one game of backgammon with
her. He played three; and then, thinking he had done enough, he took up a
novel and began to read. Emily was bitterly offended. She sat in a corner,
a picture of deep misery; and whenever he spoke to Mrs. Bentley, he thought
she would burst into tears. It was exasperating to be the perpetual victim
of such folly; and, pressed by the desire to talk to Mrs.
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