If not himself, it
would be somebody else.
And he thought. "Blast it all, am I a man or a mouse? Who's to judge
me, or stan' in my way, if I do what I please? Suppose it's found out,
well, it must be smoothed over, covered up, and put behind the
fireplace. I shan't be Number One that's bin th' same road!" and he
remembered how lightly other married men, his neighbors, country
farmers, or town tradesmen, amused themselves with their servants, and
how their middle-aged wives just had to grin and bear it. "An' Mavis,"
he thought, "can do the same. Heavens an' earth, I've got an answer
ready if she tries to make a fuss, or wants to take the dinner-bell
and go round as public crier--an answer that ought to flatten her as
if a traction engine had bin over her. 'My lass, who began it? Bring
out your slate and put it alongside mine, an' we'll see which looks
dirtiest, all said and done.'" While he was thinking in this manner,
his face became very ugly, with hard deep lines in it, and about the
mouth that cruel pouting expression once seen by Mavis.
He came back to the tree; and sat down, letting his hands hang loose,
his head droop, and his shoulders contract. The fire had gone cold
again.
Now he felt only disgust and horror.
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