‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world. He was a just man, and he did not care to start any thunder which was not based upon fairness. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. ‘Else she would not have married that ne’er-do-well only because Jarvis proposed him to her. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. “You wouldn’t. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she’s my wife, and I’ve got the certificate in my pocket. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. He forces an engagement upon her. “How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see. Jack's body was caught, and passed from hand to hand over a thousand heads, till it was far from the fatal tree. She is in the hall now.
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