Возвращение на родину

XI. The Dishonesty of an Honest Woman

           Ifyoudon’tagreetogowithme,andagreeshortly,Ishallgobymyself.”

           “OrtryThomasinagain.Damon,howstrangeitseemsthatyoucouldhavemarriedherormeindifferently,andonlyhavecometomebecauseIam—cheapest!Yes,yes—itistrue.TherewasatimewhenIshouldhaveexclaimedagainstamanofthatsort,andbeenquitewild;butitisallpastnow.”

           “Willyougo,dearest?ComesecretlywithmetoBristol,marryme,andturnourbacksuponthisdog-holeofEnglandforever?SayYes.”

           “Iwanttogetawayfromhereatalmostanycost,”shesaidwithweariness,“butIdon’tliketogowithyou.Givememoretimetodecide.”

           “Ihavealready,”saidWildeve.“Well,Igiveyouonemoreweek.”

           “Alittlelonger,sothatImaytellyoudecisively.Ihavetoconsidersomanythings.FancyThomasinbeinganxioustogetridofyou!Icannotforgetit.”

           “Nevermindthat.SayMondayweek.Iwillbeherepreciselyatthistime.”

           “LetitbeatRainbarrow,”saidshe.“Thisistoonearhome;mygrandfathermaybewalkingout.”

           “Thankyou,dear.OnMondayweekatthistimeIwillbeattheBarrow.Tillthengood-bye.”

           “Good-bye.No,no,youmustnottouchmenow.ShakinghandsisenoughtillIhavemadeupmymind.”

           Eustaciawatchedhisshadowyformtillithaddisappeared.Sheplacedherhandtoherforeheadandbreathedheavily;andthenherrich,romanticlipspartedunderthathomelyimpulse—ayawn.Shewasimmediatelyangryathavingbetrayedeventoherselfthepossibleevanescenceofherpassionforhim.

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