In the lanes, in church,
anywhere, he froze too attentive glances of admiring males with a most
portentous scowl. It was not that he entertained the faintest doubt of
her loyalty and devotion, or of her power to protect herself from
improper assiduities; but he loved her so passionately that his blood
began to boil at the mere thought of anybody's having the audacity to
court her favor. Instinctively, on such occasions, words formed
themselves in his mind and clamored for utterance on his lips. "You
take care, my fine fellow;" "Hands off, please;" "Let me catch you
trying it"--and so on: only thought-counters secretly used by himself,
and never issued in the currency of spoken words.
Now the internal warmth was just sufficient to make him push back his
chair and break up the party. "Mavis," he said, rather grimly, "we
mustn't detain Mr. Ridgett from his duties." Then he forced a laugh.
"I'm nobody; and so it doesn't matter how long I sit over my supper.
But we've to remember that Mr. Ridgett is the postmaster of
Rodchurch."
II
He went to bed early; but he knew that he would not sleep until the
mail-cart had gone.
His wife was sleeping peacefully. He could feel the warmth of her body
close against him; her breath, drawn so lightly and regularly, just
touched his face; and he edged away cautiously, seeking space in which
to turn without disturbing her.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35