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She wants them to be seen in public together, thought Mary as she helped Richard on with his overcoat and muffled him up in a comforter; for the air on this tableland struck cold, after Melbournes sea-level. And for that, of course, theres no better place than Moberleys Coffee Room. Aloud she said reprovingly: Ssh! Shell hear you. You know, dear, you neednt stop long. But Richard, chilly and tired from the railway journey, looked as though he could cheerfully have consigned Tilly and her nuptials to Hades.
One in a thousand . . . one in a thousand . . . a thousand . . . Mahony was on the point of dropping off, to the rhythm of these words, when a vague uneasiness began to stir in him; more exactly, when he became abruptly aware that, deep down in him, a nagging anxiety had for some time been at work. Coming to with a jerk, he sent his thoughts back over the evening. What was it? . . . what had happened to prick him, when all had seemed to go so smoothly? He groped and groped. Then . . . ha! . . . he had it. Simmonds. The name whizzed into his mind like a dart; like a dart stuck there, and was not to be plucked out. And no sooner had he found this clue than, with a rush, a swarm of vexatious thoughts and impressions was upon him. His apparent good spirits were all humbug; at heart he had been depressed by the tale of Purdys successes. They had made him feel a back number, an old fossil, who had to learn from some one he had always looked down on as his inferior, what was actually happening in the financial world. And for this he held Simmonds to blame. What was the use of a confidential agent who did not keep you up to the mark? Not that he wanted to speculate; or at least not as the word was here understood. But he wished to feel that he COULD have done so, and with as much aplomb as anybody, did the fit take him. And brooding over the chances he had no doubt missed and even at this moment might be missing: at a picture of himself lying high and dry, while one and another mere whipper-snappers like Purdy floated easily out to fortune, an acute irritation mastered him.
How hard on her you are! Yes, both you and John. Every woman NATURALLY wants a husband . . . and a good thing, too, or where would the world be? Besides if she doesnt marry, you men are the first to twit her with being an old maid. But if she shows any inclination for it, its considered matter for a joke . . . or not quite nice.
Indeed and I do not! I would no more have them tie their feelings to the shell of a house than Id have mourners hang round a grave.
I say, INFRA DIG. isnt it and no mistake, for a heavy swell like he is, to have such low-down connections . . . people who take in other peoples washing!
Mary reached for a wrap and threw it over her shoulders. John wont be in bed. And Ill make it all right about you; dont be afraid. No, no, Ill just walk over. As for intruding . . . Ive always understood John better than any of you. Besides, I dont see how people can care whether they do or not at a time like this.
My dear Mary, it has been a one-man show all these years; and the probability is, when the old fellow broke down he had no one to turn to. But I can assure you, if I left my investments in such hands I shouldnt know a moments peace all the time I was away. Besides, if he does die, the whole concern will probably go smash.