However, she had to be contented with it. And, stilted and stiff as it
was, it certainly seemed to imply that she need not relinquish hope.
He added something, in the same ponderous style, about the probability
of its being advisable to put private inclinations on one side and
attend the funeral of the deceased in his public capacity of
postmaster. This mark of respect would be expected from him, and
people would wonder if he did not pay it. Then he left the parlor, and
again spoke to Mary.
Mavis, listening, heard him give orders that an unused camp bedstead
should be brought down from the clerk's room and made up in the
kitchen. He told Mary that he wished to sleep by himself because he
felt twinges of rheumatism and was afraid of disturbing the mistress
if the pain came on during the night. And Mavis noticed that all the
time that he was talking to Mary his voice sounded perfectly natural.
Then he went down-stairs, speaking again when he was half-way down.
"How goes it, Miss Yorke? Is Mr. Ridgett in the office?"
And this time it was absolutely his old voice--rather loud, rather
authoritative, but really quite cheerful.
Thinking of his manner to her and his manner to others, she believed
that she could now understand all that he intended.
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