Want
of his wife!--queer excuse that for trying to put it out of his power
ever to see her again! Why! Half a loaf, even a slice, was better than
no bread. Not many of that neurotic type in the Army--thank Heaven! The
lugubrious figure vanished, and Mr. Bosengate pictured instead the form
of his own wife bending over her "Gloire de Dijon roses" in the rosery,
where she generally worked a little before tea now that they were short
of gardeners. He saw her, as often he had seen her, raise herself and
stand, head to one side, a gloved hand on her slender hip, gazing as it
were ironically from under drooped lids at buds which did not come out
fast enough. And the word 'Caline,' for he was something of a French
scholar, shot through his mind: 'Kathleen--Caline!' If he found her
there when he got in, he would steal up on the grass and--ah! but with
great care not to crease her dress or disturb her hair! 'If only she
weren't quite so self-contained,' he thought; 'It's like a cat you can't
get near, not really near!'
The car, returning faster than it had come down that morning, had
already passed the outskirt villas, and was breasting the hill to where,
among fields and the old trees, Charmleigh lay apart from commoner life.
Pages:
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326