Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XIII

           Prideandpassionwereintheconflict—magnificentqualitiesinawife!Thesightalmostmadeupforhismomentaryembarrassmentattherousingofamemorywhichhadnoplaceinhispresentpictureofhimself.

           Yes!Itwasworthagooddealtowatchthatfightbetweenherinstinctandherintelligence,andknowone’sselftheobjectofthestruggle...

           Mingledwiththesesensationswereconsiderationsofanotherorder.Hereflectedwithsatisfactionthatshewasthekindofwomanwithwhomonewouldliketobeseeninpublic.Itwouldbedistinctlyagreeabletofollowherintodrawing-rooms,towalkafterherdowntheaisleofatheatre,togetinandoutoftrainswithher,tosay“mywife”ofhertoallsortsofpeople.Hedrapedthesedetailsinthehandsomephrase“She’sawomantobeproudof”,andfeltthatthisfactsomehowjustifiedandennobledhisinstinctiveboyishsatisfactioninlovingher.

           Hestoodup,rambledacrosstheroomandleanedoutforawhileintothestarrynight.Thenhedroppedagainintohisarmchairwithasighofdeepcontent.

           “Oh,hangit,”hesuddenlyexclaimed,“it’sthebestthingthat’severhappenedtome,anyhow!”

           Thenextdaywasevenbetter.Hefelt,andknewshefelt,thattheyhadreachedaclearerunderstandingofeachother.Itwasasif,afteraswimthroughbrightopposingwaves,withadazzleofsunintheireyes,theyhadgainedaninletintheshadesofacliff,wheretheycouldfloatonthestillsurfaceandgazefardownintothedepths.

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