Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

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           “Oh,Isee.”Hehadslippedhishandsintothepocketsofhistweedshootingjacketandloungedalongatherside,hiseyesbentonthemoistrutsofthedrive,asthoughthematterhadlostallinterestforhim.

           “Owen——”

           Hestoppedagainandfacedher.“Lookhere,mydear,it’snosortofuse.”

           “What’snouse?”

           “Anythingonearthyoucananyofyousay.”

           Shechallengedhim:“AmIoneof‘anyofyou’?”

           Hedidnotyield.“Well,then—anythingonearththatevenyoucansay.”“Youdon’tintheleastknowwhatIcansay—orwhatImeanto.”

           “Don’tI,generally?”

           Shegavehimthispoint,butonlytomakeanother.“Yes;butthisisparticularly.Iwanttosay....Owen,you’vebeenadmirableallthrough.”

           Hebrokeintoalaughinwhichtheoddelder-brotherlynotewasoncemoreperceptible.

           “Admirable,”sheemphasized.“Andsohasshe.”

           “Oh,andsohaveyoutoher!”Hisvoicebrokedowntoboyishness.“I’veneverlostsightofthatforaminute.It’sbeenaltogethereasierforher,though,”hethrewoffpresently.

           “Onthewhole,Isupposeithas.Well——”shesummedupwithalaugh,“aren’tyouallthebetterpleasedtobetoldyou’vebehavedaswellasshe?”

           “Oh,youknow,I’venotdoneitforyou,”hetossedbackather,withouttheleastnoteofhostilityintheaffectedlightnessofhistone.

           “Haven’tyou,though,perhaps—theleastbit?Because,afterall,youknewIunderstood?”

           “You’vebeenawfullykindaboutpretendingto.”

           Shelaughed.

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