'
'Did she ask you?'
'Yes. And when I told her I was not, she said that that was all she wanted
to know--that she would soon get well now. How we human beings thrive in
each other's unhappiness!'
'Quite true, and we have been reproaching ourselves for our selfishness.'
'Yes, and hers is infinitely greater. She is quite satisfied not to be
happy herself, so long as she can make sure of our unhappiness. And what is
so strange is her utter unconsciousness of her own fantastic and hardly
conceivable selfishness.... It is astonishing!'
'She is very young, and the young are naturally egotistic.'
'Possibly. Still, it is hardly more agreeable to encounter. Come, let's go
for a walk; and, above all things, let's talk no more about Emily.'
The roads were greasy, and the hedges were torn and worn with incipient
winter, and when they dipped the town appeared, a reddish-brown mass in the
blue landscape. Hubert thought of his play and his love; but not
separately--they seemed to him now as one indissoluble, indivisible thing;
and he told her that he never would be able to write it without her
assistance. That she might be of use to him in his work was singularly
sweet to hear, and the thought reached to the end of her heart, causing her
to smile sadly, and argue vainly, and him to reply querulously.
Pages:
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224