Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XVI

           

           “It’sagoodplacetobealonein—Idon’tthinkI’veeverbeforecaredtotalkwithanyonehere.”

           “Let’sbequiet,then:it’sthebestwayoftalking.”

           “Yes;butwemustsaveituptilllater.TherearethingsIwanttosaytoyounow.”

           Heleanedbackinhischair.“Saythem,then,andI’lllisten.”

           “Oh,no.IwantyoutotellmeaboutMissViner.”

           “AboutMissViner?”Hesummonedupalookoffaintinterrogation.

           Hethoughtsheseemedsurprisedathissurprise.“It’simportant,naturally,”sheexplained,“thatIshouldfindoutallIcanaboutherbeforeIleave.”

           “ImportantonEffie’saccount?”

           “OnEffie’saccount—ofcourse.”

           “Ofcourse....Butyou’veeveryreasontobesatisfied,haven’tyou?”

           “Everyapparentreason.Wealllikeher.Effie’sveryfondofher,andsheseemstohaveadelightfulinfluenceonthechild.Butweknowsolittle,afterall—aboutherantecedents,Imean,andherpasthistory.That’swhyIwantyoutotryandrecalleverythingyouheardaboutherwhenyouusedtoseeherinLondon.”

           “Oh,onthatscoreI’mafraidIsha’n’tbeofmuchuse.AsItoldyou,shewasamereshadowinthebackgroundofthehouseIsawherin—andthatwasfourorfiveyearsago...”

           “WhenshewaswithaMrs.Murrett?”

           “Yes;anappallingwomanwhorunsaroaringdinner-factorythatusednowandthentocatchmeinitswheels.Iescapedfromthemlongago;butinmytimethereusedtobehalfadozenfagged‘hands’totendthemachine,andMissVinerwasoneofthem.

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