Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XVIII

           

           Hisimmediateresponsewastothrowhimselfintothearmchairatherside,whereheloungedforamomentwithoutspeaking,hislegsstretchedout,hisarmslockedbehindhisthrown-backhead.Anna,hereyesonhisface,waitedquietlyforhimtospeak.

           “Well—ofcourseitwasjustwhatoneexpected.”

           “Shetakesitsobadly,youmean?”

           “Alltheheavybatterieswerebroughtup:myfather,Givre,MonsieurdeChantelle,thethroneandthealtar.Evenmypoormotherwasdraggedoutofoblivionandarmedwithimaginaryprotests.”

           Annasighedouthersympathy.“Well—youwerepreparedforallthat?”

           “IthoughtIwas,tillIbegantohearhersayit.ThenitsoundedsoincrediblysillythatItoldherso.”

           “Oh,Owen—Owen!”

           “Yes:Iknow.Iwasafool;butIcouldn’thelpit.”

           “Andyou’vemortallyoffendedher,Isuppose?That’sexactlywhatIwantedtoprevent.”Shelaidahandonhisshoulder.“Youtiresomeboy,nottowaitandletmespeakforyou!”

           Hemovedslightlyaway,sothatherhandslippedfromitsplace.“Youdon’tunderstand,”hesaid,frowning.

           “Idon’tseehowIcan,tillyouexplain.Ifyouthoughtthetimehadcometotellyourgrandmother,whynothaveaskedmetodoit?Ihadmyreasonsforwaiting;butifyou’dtoldmetospeakIshouldhavedoneso,naturally.”

           Heevadedherappealbyasuddenturn.“Whatwereyourreasonsforwaiting?”

           Annadidnotimmediatelyanswer.Herstep-son’seyeswereonherface,andunderhisgazeshefeltafaintdisquietude.

           “Iwasfeelingmyway....Iwantedtobeabsolutelysure...

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