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Chapter 19

           Therewasnothingverymuchtobesaidaboutit.Hermindwasstillgoingupanddown,upanddownwiththepoetry;hewasstillfeelingveryvigorous,veryforthright,afterreadingaboutSteenie’sfuneral.Sotheysatsilent.Thenshebecameawarethatshewantedhimtosaysomething.

           Anything,anything,shethought,goingonwithherknitting.Anythingwilldo.

           "Howniceitwouldbetomarryamanwithawash-leatherbagforhiswatch,"shesaid,forthatwasthesortofjoketheyhadtogether.

           Hesnorted.Hefeltaboutthisengagementashealwaysfeltaboutanyengagement;thegirlismuchtoogoodforthatyoungman.Slowlyitcameintoherhead,whyisitthenthatonewantspeopletomarry?Whatwasthevalue,themeaningofthings?(Everywordtheysaidnowwouldbetrue.)Dosaysomething,shethought,wishingonlytohearhisvoice.Fortheshadow,thethingfoldingtheminwasbeginning,shefelt,tocloseroundheragain.Sayanything,shebegged,lookingathim,asifforhelp.

           Hewassilent,swingingthecompassonhiswatch-chaintoandfro,andthinkingofScott’snovelsandBalzac’snovels.Butthroughthecrepuscularwallsoftheirintimacy,fortheyweredrawingtogether,involuntarily,comingsidebyside,quiteclose,shecouldfeelhismindlikearaisedhandshadowinghermind;andhewasbeginning,nowthatherthoughtstookaturnhedislikedtowardsthis"pessimism"ashecalledittofidget,thoughhesaidnothing,raisinghishandtohisforehead,twistingalockofhair,lettingitfallagain.

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