I thought I
detected it here and there in a line about the mouth, and perhaps in
her walk. There was a reminiscence of it too in her clothes.
Notwithstanding poverty and distress, the old neatness--that
particular care which used to charm me so when I was little more than
a child, was there still. I was always susceptible to this virtue,
and delicate hands and feet, with delicate care bestowed thereon,
were more attractive to me than slovenly beauty. I noticed that the
gloves, though mended, fitted with the same precision, and that her
dress was unwrinkled and perfectly graceful. Whatever she might have
had to endure, it had not destroyed that self-centred satisfaction
which makes life tolerable.
I was impelled at once to say that I had to beg her pardon for asking
her there. Unfortunately I was obliged to go over to Cowston, a
village which was about three miles from the town. Perhaps she would
not mind walking part of the way with me through the meadows, and
then we could talk with more freedom, as I should not feel pressed
for time. To this arrangement she at once agreed, and dropping her
thick veil over her face, we went out. In a few minutes we were
clear of the houses, and I began the conversation.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135