” “Did you tell him of the registry office?” “No—o—certainly not so emphatically as I did about the play. “Will he live?” The doctor shook his head. He would be so disappointed. Not at all. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. Instead of which they walked sharply. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer.
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