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Young, E. H. (Emily Hilda), 1880-1949

"The Bridge Dividing"

'Must be something wrong somewhere,' he
said, examining girth and pommels.
'It's old age coming on,' Rose said gravely.
He thought that a great joke. He was twice her age already and
considered himself in his prime. He led the horse away and Rose went
into the house.
How extraordinarily limited her life had been! It had passed almost
entirely in this house and Nelson Lodge and on the road between the
two. Of all her experiences the only ones that mattered had been
suffered here, and they had all been of one kind. Even Henrietta's
fewer years had been more varied. She had known poverty and been
compelled to the practical application of her wits, she had baffled
Mr. Jenkins, she had been kissed by Francis Sales.
Rose stood for a moment in the hall and looked for the mirror which
was not there. She did not wish to give Christabel Sales the
satisfaction of seeing her look distraught, but a peep in the glass of
one of the sporting prints reassured her. Her appearance almost made
her doubt the reality of the feelings which consisted of a great heat
in the head and a deadly cold weight near her heart and which forced
these triumphant words from her lips--'At least Henrietta has never
felt like this.'
She entered Christabel's room calmly, smiling and prepared for news,
but at the first sight of the invalid, lying very low in her bed and
barely turning her head at the sound of the opening door, she thought
that perhaps Christabel's weakness had at last overcome her enmity.


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