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Chapter 17

           Whycouldheneverconcealhisfeelings?Mrs.Ramsaywondered,andshewonderedifAugustusCarmichaelhadnoticed.Perhapshehad;perhapshehadnot.Shecouldnothelprespectingthecomposurewithwhichhesatthere,drinkinghissoup.Ifhewantedsoup,heaskedforsoup.Whetherpeoplelaughedathimorwereangrywithhimhewasthesame.Hedidnotlikeher,sheknewthat;butpartlyforthatveryreasonsherespectedhim,andlookingathim,drinkingsoup,verylargeandcalminthefailinglight,andmonumental,andcontemplative,shewonderedwhathedidfeelthen,andwhyhewasalwayscontentanddignified;andshethoughthowdevotedhewastoAndrew,andwouldcallhimintohisroom,andAndrewsaid,"showhimthings."Andtherehewouldliealldaylongonthelawnbroodingpresumablyoverhispoetry,tillheremindedoneofacatwatchingbirds,andthenheclappedhispawstogetherwhenhehadfoundtheword,andherhusbandsaid,"PooroldAugustushe’satruepoet,"whichwashighpraisefromherhusband.

           Noweightcandleswerestooddownthetable,andafterthefirststooptheflamesstooduprightanddrewwiththemintovisibilitythelongtableentire,andinthemiddleayellowandpurpledishoffruit.

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