`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……’