It was as if, in the view of
society he had not BEEN markedly bereaved, as if there still failed
some sign or proof of it, and as if none the less his character
could never be affirmed nor the deficiency ever made up. There
were moments as the weeks went by when he would have liked, by some
almost aggressive act, to take his stand on the intimacy of his
loss, in order that it MIGHT be questioned and his retort, to the
relief of his spirit, so recorded; but the moments of an irritation
more helpless followed fast on these, the moments during which,
turning things over with a good conscience but with a bare horizon,
he found himself wondering if he oughtn't to have begun, so to
speak, further back.
He found himself wondering indeed at many things, and this last
speculation had others to keep it company. What could he have
done, after all, in her lifetime, without giving them both, as it
were, away? He couldn't have made known she was watching him, for
that would have published the superstition of the Beast. This was
what closed his mouth now--now that the Jungle had been thrashed to
vacancy and that the Beast had stolen away.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91