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XLIV. Under a Tree—Reaction

           Onlythecarnationsandpeacockswantfillingin;andthenitcouldbeframedandglazed,andhungbesideyouraunt’sma’am."

           "Samplersareoutofdatehorriblycountrified.NoLiddy,I’llread.Bringupsomebooksnotnewones.Ihaven’thearttoreadanythingnew."

           "Someofyouruncle’soldones,ma’am?"

           "Yes.Someofthosewestowedawayinboxes."Afaintgleamofhumourpassedoverherfaceasshesaid:"BringBeaumontandFletcher’sMaid’sTragedy,andtheMourningBride,andletmeseeNightThoughts,andtheVanityofHumanWishes."

           "Andthatstoryoftheblackman,whomurderedhiswifeDesdemona?Itisanicedismalonethatwouldsuityouexcellentjustnow."

           "Now,Liddy,you’vebeenlookingintomybookswithouttellingme;andIsaidyouwerenotto!Howdoyouknowitwouldsuitme?Itwouldn’tsuitmeatall."

           "Butiftheothersdo"

           "No,theydon’t;andIwon’treaddismalbooks.WhyshouldIreaddismalbooks,indeed?BringmeLoveinaVillage,andMaidoftheMill,andDoctorSyntax,andsomevolumesoftheSpectator."

           AllthatdayBathshebaandLiddylivedintheatticinastateofbarricade;aprecautionwhichprovedtobeneedlessasagainstTroy,forhedidnotappearintheneighbourhoodortroublethematall.Bathshebasatatthewindowtillsunset,sometimesattemptingtoread,atothertimeswatchingeverymovementoutsidewithoutmuchpurpose,andlisteningwithoutmuchinteresttoeverysound.

           Thesunwentdownalmostblood-redthatnight,andalividcloudreceiveditsraysintheeast

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