Husband and wife -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
"Do you know," she ventured, following him to the door, "I'm not half
satisfied with what you did about Mr. St. Ives?" and she gave him a
direct, almost accusing glance.
"But I sent him a check, certainly liberal in the circumstances, since
he is free to go on and manufacture--" Simon began, and he wrinkled his
brow.
Rachel shrugged her shoulders in impatience. "You sent him a check;
yes, you even advised him to go on and manufacture that instrument.
But he isn't capable of making a practical move. Now if you'd shown
any real interest--" She stayed her words, silenced by contrition.
After Simon had gone, she established herself with a bit of sewing in
the dining room. It was the only room that did not weigh on her
spirits. But she had discovered at once that this house, lonely,
silent, forbidding, suited Simon as it was; therefore she had confined
herself merely to refitting and converting into a sitting room an
unused chamber on the second floor; and to making more comfortable the
quarters of old Nicholas Hart. There her efforts had ended. An entire
remodelling of the mansion would have been necessary to disperse the
atmosphere of depression that, tangible as dampness, emanated from its
walls.
It had sheltered in its time, apparently, a goodly number of
soft-moving, mirthless people. Its inner doors of dark polished wood,
never emitted a squeak; and the occasional sounds that penetrated the
plaster of its ceilings, suggested a company of rats that went about
their business in hushed, apologetic groups, instead of in scampering
hordes. The house had never become reconciled to Simon's pianola, and
when he seated himself before the instrument, as he did with
conscientious regularity every day after dinner, Rachel often fancied
that the house lifted shoulders of aversion.
And the legitimate inmates, she decided, were in keeping with the
house. Simon and his housekeeper, Theresa Walker, could have desired
nothing different in the way of a dwelling. As for old Nicholas and
herself, not to mention the various maids who succeeded one another
rapidly (for Theresa was difficult to suit in the matter of assistants)
they were merely interlopers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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