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she and Medora Manson had taken there: he had written to her oncea few words, asking when they were to meet againand she had even more briefly replied: Not yet. Since then there had been no farther communication between them, and he had built up within himself a kind of sanctuary in which she throned among his secret thoughts and longings. Little by little it became the scene of his real life, of his only rational activities; thither he brought the books he read, the ideas and feelings which nourished him, his judgments and his visions. Outside it, in the scene of his actual life, he moved with a growing sense of unreality and insufficiency, blundering against familiar prejudices and traditional points of view as an absent-minded man goes on bumping into the furniture of his own room. Absentthat was what he was: so absent from everything most densely real and near to those about him that it sometimes startled him to find they still imagined he was there. He became aware that Mr. Jackson was clearing his throat preparatory to farther revelations. I dont know, of course, how far your wifes family are aware of what people say aboutwell, about Madame Olenskas refusal to accept her husbands latest offer. Archer was silent, and Mr. Jackson obliquely continued: Its a pityits certainly a pitythat she refused it. A pity? In Gods name, why? Mr. Jackson looked down his leg to the unwrinkled sock that joined it to a glossy pump. Wellto put it on the lowest groundwhats she going to live on now? Now? If Beaufort Archer sprang up, his fist banging down on the black walnut-edge of the writing-table. The wells of the brass double-inkstand danced in their sockets. What the devil do you mean, sir? Mr. Jackson, shifting himself slightly in his chair, turned a tranquil gaze on the young mans burning face. WellI have it on pretty good authorityin fact, on old Catherines herselfthat the family reduced Countess Olenskas allowance considerably when she definitely refused to go back to her husband; and as, by this refusal, she also forfeits the money settled on her when she marriedwhich Olenski was ready to make over to her if she returnedwhy, what the devil do you mean, my dear boy, by asking me what I mean? Mr. Jackson good-humouredly retorted. Archer moved toward the mantelpiece and bent over to knock his ashes into the grate. I dont know anything of Madame Olenskas private affairs; but I dont need to, to be certain that what you insinuate Oh, I dont: its Lefferts, for one, Mr. Jackson interposed. Leffertswho made love to her and got snubbed for it! Archer broke out contemptuously. Ahdid he? snapped the other, as if this were exactly the fact he had been laying a trap for. He still sat sideways from the fire, so that his hard old gaze held Archers face as if in a spring of steel. |
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