If I were not entirely
too wise to believe his account of himself, I might suppose that he was
unhappy because Blanche shows symptoms of not taking flight. She has
been with us a great deal--she has no idea what is going on--and I can't
honestly say that she chatters any less than usual. But she is greatly
interested in certain shops that she is buying out, and especially in
her visits to her tailor. Mamma has proposed to her--in view of your
absence--to come and stay with us, and she does n't seem afraid of the
idea. I told her husband to-day that we had asked her, and that we
hoped he had no objection. 'None whatever; but she won't come.' 'On
the contrary, she says she will.' 'She will pretend to, up to the last
minute; and then she will find a pretext for backing out.' 'Decidedly,
you think very ill of her,' I said. 'She hates me,' he answered, looking
at me strangely. 'You say that of every one,' I said. 'Yesterday you
said it of Bernard.' 'Ah, for him there would be more reason!' he
exclaimed. 'I won't attempt to answer for Bernard,' I went on, 'but
I will answer for Blanche. Your idea of her hating you is a miserable
delusion. She cares for you more than for any one in the world. You only
misunderstand each other, and with a little good will on both sides you
can easily get out of your tangle.
Pages:
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325