London (England) -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Women artists -- Fiction
“Well,” asked Thornton, “what shall I do? Of course your going is out of
the question.”
“Naturally,” replied Clytie, glad that that point was settled without
any discussion. “Why do you ask me?”
“To know what your wishes are as regards myself. Clavering has got some
good shooting, I believe, and his wife always keeps a decent house. I
don't see what good I should be here; but still, if you would like me to
stay on and see you through, I don't mind a bit.”
He meant to be magnanimous. Perhaps he expected his wife to be duly
grateful; as it was she only replied somewhat wearily:
“You must do whatever you think best, Thornton. I should not like to
keep you here on my account, while you might be having a good time with
your friends.”
“Oh! it's all the same to me,” he said. “It's just as you like.”
Clytie shook her head despondently. If there could have been any
pleasure to either of them in his staying, these questions would have
been impossible. It was love and not politeness that should have kept
him by her side.
“You are very kind to think of it, Thornton,” she said, “and I thank you
for asking me; but you couldn't do much if you stayed, you know.”
“I think I should be somewhat in the way,” he said good-temperedly.
“That sort of thing is not much in my line. However, I did not like to
accept without asking you. Are you sure you don't mind?”
“Oh, quite sure!” said Clytie suavely.
So the point was amicably settled, and Thornton went down to Hampshire
to shoot Clavering's pheasants and to be led cynically captive by
Clavering's wife. To avoid giving the latter a gratuitous loophole for
sarcastic attack, he forbore to hint at the cause that prevented Clytie
from accompanying him. He said vaguely that she was with her people.
Mrs. Clavering did not press the point in any way, as she reciprocated
Clytie's dislike, and was perfectly indifferent as to what became of
her. In fact she was greatly relieved when Thornton announced that he
was coming alone. Him she could manage as she liked--or thought she
could, which comes to the same thing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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