Modern Chronicle, a — Volume 04 by Winston Churchill
page 43 of 89 (48%)
page 43 of 89 (48%)
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"But--but I'm not ready to begin on this scale," objected Howard. "Why," cried Brent, with evident zest--for he was a man who enjoyed sport in all its forms, even to baiting the husbands of his friends,--"when I first set eyes on you, old fellow, I thought you knew a thing or two, and you've made a few turns since that confirmed the opinion. But I'm beginning to perceive that you have limitations. I could sit down here now, if there were any place to sit, and calculate how much living in this house would be worth to me in Wall Street." Honora, who had been listening uneasily, knew that a shrewder or more disturbing argument could not have been used on her husband; and it came from Trixton Brent--to Howard at least--ex cathedra. She was filled with a sense of shame, which was due not solely to the fact that she was a little conscience-stricken because of her innocent complicity, nor that her husband did not resent an obvious attempt of a high-handed man to browbeat him; but also to the feeling that the character of the discussion had in some strange way degraded the house itself. Why was it that everything she touched seemed to become contaminated? "There's no use staying any longer," she said. "Howard doesn't like it." "I didn't say so," he interrupted. "There's something about the place that grows on you. If I felt I could afford it--" "At any rate," declared Honora, trying to control her voice, "I've decided, now I've seen it a second time, that I don't want it. I only wished him to look at it," she added, scornfully aware that she was taking up the cudgels in his behalf. But she could not bring herself, in |
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