`Daretopresume!howabsurd!ButIhopetoGodshewon’tturnup。Andhowwashertea？’
`Oh，Lipton’sandverystrong。ButClifford，doyourealizeyouaretheRomandelaroseofMissBentleyandlotslikeher？’
`I’mnotflattered，eventhen。’
`Theytreasureupeveryoneofyourpicturesintheillustratedpapers，andprobablyprayforyoueverynight。It’sratherwonderful。’
Shewentupstairstochange。
Thateveninghesaidtoher：
`Youdothink，don’tyou，thatthereissomethingeternalinmarriage？’
Shelookedathim。
`ButClifford，youmakeeternitysoundlikealidoralong，longchainthattrailedafterone，nomatterhowfaronewent。’
Helookedather，annoyed。
`WhatImean，’hesaid，`isthatifyougotoVenice，youwon’tgointhehopesofsomeloveaffairthatyoucantakeaugrandsé；rieux，willyou？’
`AloveaffairinVeniceaugrandsé；rieux？No。Iassureyou!No，I’dnevertakealoveaffairinVenicemorethanautrè；spetitsé；rieux。’
Shespokewithaqueerkindofcontempt。Heknittedhisbrows，lookingather。
Comingdownstairsinthemorning，shefoundthekeeper’sdogFlossiesittinginthecorridoroutsideClifford’sroom，andwhimperingveryfaintly。
`Why，Flossie!’shesaidsoftly。`Whatareyoudoinghere？’
AndshequietlyopenedClifford’sdoor。Cliffordwassittingupinbed，withthebed-tableandtypewriterpushedaside，andthekeeperwasstandingatattentionatthefootofthebed。Flossieranin。Withafaintgestureofheadandeyes，Mellorsorderedhertothedooragain，andsheslunkout。
`Oh，goodmorning，Clifford!’Conniesaid。`Ididn’tknowyouwerebusy。’
Thenshelookedatthekeeper，sayinggoodmorningtohim。Hemurmuredhisreply，lookingatherasifvaguely。Butshefeltawhiffofpassiontouchher，fromhismerepresence。
`DidIinterruptyou，Clifford？I’msorry。’
`No，it’snothingofanyimportance。’
Sheslippedoutoftheroomagain，anduptotheblueboudoironthefirstfloor。Shesatinthewindow，andsawhimgodownthedrive，withhiscurious，silentmotion，effaced。Hehadanaturalsortofquietdistinction，analoofpride，andalsoacertainlookoffrailty。Ahireling!OneofClifford’shirelings!`Thefault，dearBrutus，isnotinourstars，butinourselves，thatweareunderlings。’
Washeanunderling？Washe？Whatdidhethinkofher？
Itwasasunnyday，andConniewasworkinginthegarden，andMrsBoltonwashelpingher。Forsomereason，thetwowomenhaddrawntogether，inoneoftheunaccountableflowsandebbsofsympathythatexistbetweenpeople。Theywerepeggingdowncarnations，andputtinginsmallplantsforthesummer。Itwasworktheybothliked。Connieespeciallyfeltadelightinputtingthesoftrootsofyoungplantsintoasoftblackpuddle，andcradlingthemdown。Onthisspringmorningshefeltaquiverinherwombtoo，asifthesunshinehadtoucheditandmadeithappy。
`Itismanyyearssinceyoulostyourhusband？’shesaidtoMrsBoltonasshetookupanotherlittleplantandlaiditinitshole。
`Twenty-three!’saidMrsBolton，asshecarefullyseparatedtheyoungcolumbinesintosingleplants。`Twenty-threeyearssincetheybroughthimhome。’
Connie’sheartgavealurch，attheterriblefinalityofit。`Broughthimhome!’
`Whydidhegetkilled，doyouthink？’sheasked。`Hewashappywithyou？’
Itwasawoman’squestiontoawoman。MrsBoltonputasideastrandofhairfromherface，withthebackofherhand。
`Idon’tknow，myLady!Hesortofwouldn’tgiveintothings：hewouldn’treallygowiththerest。Andthenhehatedduckinghisheadforanythingonearth。Asortofobstinacy，thatgetsitselfkilled。Youseehedidn’treallycare。Ilayitdowntothepit。Heoughtnevertohavebeendownpit。Buthisdadmadehimgodown，asalad；andthen，whenyou’reovertwenty，it’snotveryeasytocomeout。’
`Didhesayhehatedit？’
`Ohno!Never!Heneversaidhehatedanything。Hejustmadeafunnyface。Hewasoneofthosewhowouldn’ttakecare：likesomeofthefirstladsaswentoffsoblithetothewarandgotkilledrightaway。Hewasn’treallywezzle-brained。Buthewouldn’tcare。Iusedtosaytohim：“Youcarefornoughtnornobody!“Buthedid!Thewayhesatwhenmyfirstbabywasborn，motionless，andthesortoffataleyeshelookedatmewith，whenitwasover!Ihadabadtime，butIhadtocomforthim。“It’sallright，lad，it’sallright!“Isaidtohim。Andhegavemealook，andthatfunnysortofsmile。Heneversaidanything。ButIdon’tbelievehehadanyrightpleasurewithmeatnightsafter；he’dneverreallylethimselfgo。Iusedtosaytohim：Oh，letthysengo，lad!——I’dtalkbroadtohimsometimes。Andhesaidnothing。Buthewouldn’tlethimselfgo，orhecouldn’t。Hedidn’twantmetohaveanymorechildren。Ialwaysblamedhismother，forlettinghiminth’room。He’dnorightt’avebeenthere。
Menmakessomuchmoreofthingsthantheyshould，oncetheystartbrooding。’
`Didhemindsomuch？’saidConnieinwonder。
`Yes，hesortofcouldn’ttakeitfornatural，allthatpain。Anditspoilthispleasureinhisbitofmarriedlove。Isaidtohim：IfIdon’tcare，whyshouldyou？It’smylook-out!——Butallhe’deversaywas：It’snotright!’
`Perhapshewastoosensitive，’saidConnie。
`That’sit!Whenyoucometoknowmen，that’showtheyare：toosensitiveinthewrongplace。AndIbelieve，unbeknowntohimselfhehatedthepit，justhatedit。Helookedsoquietwhenhewasdead，asifhe’dgotfree。
Hewassuchanice-lookinglad。Itjustbrokemyhearttoseehim，sostillandpurelooking，asifhe’dwantedtodie。Oh，itbrokemyheart，thatdid。Butitwasthepit。’
Sheweptafewbittertears，andConnieweptmore。Itwasawarmspringday，withaperfumeofearthandofyellowflowers，manythingsrisingtobud，andthegardenstillwiththeverysapofsunshine。
`Itmusthavebeenterribleforyou!’saidConnie。
`Oh，myLady!Ineverrealizedatfirst。Icouldonlysay：Ohmylad，whatdidyouwanttoleavemefor!——Thatwasallmycry。ButsomehowI
felthe’dcomeback。’
`Buthedidn’twanttoleaveyou，’saidConnie。
`Ohno，myLady!Thatwasonlymysillycry。AndIkeptexpectinghimback。Especiallyatnights。Ikeptwakingupthinking：Whyhe’snotinbedwithme!——Itwasasifmyfeelingswouldn’tbelievehe’dgone。
Ijustfelthe’dhavetocomebackandlieagainstme，soIcouldfeelhimwithme。ThatwasallIwanted，tofeelhimtherewithme，warm。
AndittookmeathousandshocksbeforeIknewhewouldn’tcomeback，ittookmeyears。’
`Thetouchofhim，’saidConnie。
`That’sit，myLady，thetouchofhim!I’venevergotoverittothisday，andnevershall。Andifthere’saheavenabove，he’llbethere，andwilllieupagainstmesoIcansleep。’
Connieglancedatthehandsome，broodingfaceinfear。AnotherpassionateoneoutofTevershall!Thetouchofhim!Forthebondsofloveareilltoloose!
`It’sterrible，onceyou’vegotamanintoyourblood!’shesaid。`Oh，myLady!Andthat’swhatmakesyoufeelsobitter。Youfeelfolkswantedhimkilled。Youfeelthepitfairwantedtokillhim。Oh，Ifelt，ifithadn’tbeenforthepit，an’themasrunsthepit，there’dhavebeennoleavingme。Buttheyallwanttoseparateawomanandaman，ifthey’retogether。’
`Ifthey’rephysicallytogether，’saidConnie。
`That’sright，myLady!There’salotofhard-heartedfolksintheworld。
Andeverymorningwhenhegotupandwenttoth’pit，Ifeltitwaswrong，wrong。Butwhatelsecouldhedo？Whatcanamando？’
Aqueerhateflaredinthewoman。
`Butcanatouchlastsolong？’Connieaskedsuddenly。`Thatyoucouldfeelhimsolong？’
`OhmyLady，whatelseistheretolast？Childrengrowsawayfromyou。
Buttheman，well!Buteventhatthey’dliketokillinyou，theverythoughtofthetouchofhim。Evenyourownchildren!Ahwell!Wemighthavedriftedapart，whoknows。Butthefeeling’ssomethingdifferent。It’s’appenbetternevertocare。Butthere，whenIlookatwomenwho’sneverreallybeenwarmedthroughbyaman，well，theyseemtomepoordoolowlsafterall，nomatterhowtheymaydressupandgad。No，I’llabidebymyown。I’venotmuchrespectforpeople。’
Chapter12
Conniewenttothewooddirectlyafterlunch。Itwasreallyalovelyday，thefirstdandelionsmakingsuns，thefirstdaisiessowhite。Thehazelthicketwasalace-work，ofhalf-openleaves，andthelastdustyperpendicularofthecatkins。Yellowcelandinesnowwereincrowds，flatopen，pressedbackinurgency，andtheyellowglitterofthemselves。Itwastheyellow，thepowerfulyellowofearlysummer。Andprimroseswerebroad，andfullofpaleabandon，thick-clusteredprimrosesnolongershy。
Thelush，darkgreenofhyacinthswasasea，withbudsrisinglikepalecorn，whileintheridingtheforget-me-notswerefluffingup，andcolumbineswereunfoldingtheirink-purpleruches，andtherewerebitsofbluebird’seggshellunderabush。Everywherethebud-knotsandtheleapoflife!
Thekeeperwasnotatthehut。Everythingwasserene，brownchickensrunninglustily。Conniewalkedontowardsthecottage，becauseshewantedtofindhim。
Thecottagestoodinthesun，offthewood’sedge。Inthelittlegardenthedoubledaffodilsroseintufts，nearthewide-opendoor，andreddoubledaisiesmadeabordertothepath。Therewasthebarkofadog，andFlossiecamerunning。
Thewide-opendoor!sohewasathome。Andthesunlightfallingonthered-brickfloor!Asshewentupthepath，shesawhimthroughthewindow，sittingatthetableinhisshirt-sleeves，eating。Thedogwuffedsoftly，slowlywagginghertail。
Herose，andcametothedoor，wipinghismouthwitharedhandkerchiefstillchewing。
`MayIcomein？’shesaid。
`Comein!’
Thesunshoneintothebareroom，whichstillsmelledofamuttonchop，doneinadutchovenbeforethefire，becausethedutchovenstillstoodonthefender，withtheblackpotato-saucepanonapieceofpaper，besideitonthewhitehearth。Thefirewasred，ratherlow，thebardropped，thekettlesinging。
Onthetablewashisplate，withpotatoesandtheremainsofthechop；
alsobreadinabasket，salt，andabluemugwithbeer。Thetable-clothwaswhiteoil-cloth，hestoodintheshade。
`Youareverylate，’shesaid。`Dogooneating!’
Shesatdownonawoodenchair，inthesunlightbythedoor。
`IhadtogotoUthwaite，’hesaid，sittingdownatthetablebutnoteating。
`Doeat，’shesaid。Buthedidnottouchthefood。
`Shally’avesomething？’heaskedher。`Shally’aveacupoftea？t’
kettle’sont’boil’——hehalfroseagainfromhischair。
`Ifyou’llletmemakeitmyself，’shesaid，rising。Heseemedsad，andshefeltshewasbotheringhim。
`Well，tea-pot’sinthere’——hepointedtoalittle，drabcornercupboard；
’an’cups。An’tea’sont’manteloweryer’ead，’
Shegottheblacktea-pot，andthetinofteafromthemantel-shelf。
Sherinsedthetea-potwithhotwater，andstoodamomentwonderingwheretoemptyit。
`Throwitout，’hesaid，awareofher。`It’sclean。’
Shewenttothedoorandthrewthedropofwaterdownthepath。Howlovelyitwashere，sostill，soreallywoodland。Theoakswereputtingoutochreyellowleaves：inthegardenthereddaisieswerelikeredplushbuttons。Sheglancedatthebig，hollowsandstoneslabofthethreshold，nowcrossedbysofewfeet。
`Butit’slovelyhere，’shesaid。`Suchabeautifulstillness，everythingaliveandstill。’
Hewaseatingagain，ratherslowlyandunwillingly，andshecouldfeelhewasdiscouraged。Shemadetheteainsilence，andsetthetea-potonthehob，assheknewthepeopledid。Hepushedhisplateasideandwenttothebackplace；sheheardalatchclick，thenhecamebackwithcheeseonaplate，andbutter。
Shesetthetwocupsonthetable；therewereonlytwo。`Willyouhaveacupoftea？’shesaid。
`Ifyoulike。Sugar’sinth’cupboard，an’there’salittlecreamjug。
Milk’sinajuginth’pantry。’
`ShallItakeyourplateaway？’sheaskedhim。Helookedupatherwithafaintironicalsmile。
`Why……ifyoulike，’hesaid，slowlyeatingbreadandcheese。Shewenttotheback，intothepent-housescullery，wherethepumpwas。Ontheleftwasadoor，nodoubtthepantrydoor。Sheunlatchedit，andalmostsmiledattheplacehecalledapantry；alongnarrowwhite-washedslipofacupboard。
Butitmanagedtocontainalittlebarrelofbeer，aswellasafewdishesandbitsoffood。Shetookalittlemilkfromtheyellowjug。
`Howdoyougetyourmilk？’sheaskedhim，whenshecamebacktothetable。
`Flints!Theyleavemeabottleatthewarrenend。Youknow，whereI
metyou!’
Buthewasdiscouraged。Shepouredoutthetea，poisingthecream-jug。
`Nomilk，’hesaid；thenheseemedtohearanoise，andlookedkeenlythroughthedoorway。
`’Appenwe’dbettershut，’hesaid。
`Itseemsapity，’shereplied。`Nobodywillcome，willthey？’
`Notunlessit’sonetimeinathousand，butyouneverknow。’
`Andeventhenit’snomatter，’shesaid。`It’sonlyacupoftea。’
`Wherearethespoons？’
Hereachedover，andpulledopenthetabledrawer。Conniesatatthetableinthesunshineofthedoorway。
`Flossie!’hesaidtothedog，whowaslyingonalittlematatthestairfoot。`Goan’hark，hark!’
Heliftedhisfinger，andhis`hark!’wasveryvivid。Thedogtrottedouttoreconnoitre。
`Areyousadtoday？’sheaskedhim。
Heturnedhisblueeyesquickly，andgazeddirectonher。
`Sad!no，bored!IhadtogogettingsummonsesfortwopoachersIcaught，and，ohwell，Idon’tlikepeople。’
Hespokecold，goodEnglish，andtherewasangerinhisvoice。`Doyouhatebeingagame-keeper？’sheasked。
`Beingagame-keeper，no!SolongasI’mleftalone。ButwhenIhavetogomessingaroundatthepolice-station，andvariousotherplaces，andwaitingforalotoffoolstoattendtome……ohwell，Igetmad……’andhesmiled，withacertainfainthumour。
`Couldn’tyoubereallyindependent？’sheasked。
`Me？IsupposeIcould，ifyoumeanmanagetoexistonmypension。I
could!ButI’vegottowork，orIshoulddie。Thatis，I’vegottohavesomethingthatkeepsmeoccupied。AndI’mnotinagoodenoughtempertoworkformyself。It’sgottobeasortofjobforsomebodyelse，orIshouldthrowitupinamonth，outofbadtemper。SoaltogetherI’mverywelloffhere，especiallylately……’