The Canadian: Photoplay title of The Land of PromiseMaugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
General
The Canadian: Photoplay title of The Land of Promise
Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
Attitude change -- Fiction; Canada -- Fiction; Farm life -- Fiction; Husband and wife -- Fiction
If from some other world Miss Wickham could see her, how she must be
smiling! Nora, herself, smiled at the thought. And at the thought of
Agnes Pringle's outraged astonishment if she were to meet her husband
now, before she had toned him down, as she meant to do. She recalled the
chill finality of her friend's tone when in animadverting on the
doctor's unfortunate assistant she had said: "But, my dear, of course it
would be impossible to marry anyone who wasn't a gentleman."
If by some Arabian Night's trick she could suddenly transport herself
and the sleeping Frank to Miss Pringle's side, she felt that that
excellent lady's astonishment at seeing her descend from the Magic
Carpet would be as nothing in comparison to her astonishment in being
presented to Nora's husband.
Her mind had grown accustomed already to thinking of him as her husband;
not, as yet, to thinking of herself as his wife.
At supper time they went into a car ahead, where Frank ate with his
accustomed appetite and Nora pecked daintily at the cold chicken.
And now they were at Prentice. For some minutes before arriving, Frank,
who had asked her a few moments before to change places with him, had
been looking anxiously out of the window, his nose flattened against the
glass. As they drew up to the station platform, he gave a shout.
"Good! There's old man Sharp. Luckily I remembered it was the day he
generally drove over and wired him."
"What for?"
"So that he could drive us home. He's a near neighbor; lives only about
a mile beyond us. He's married, too. So you won't be entirely without a
woman to complain to about me."
"I should hardly be likely to do that," said Nora stiffly.
"Bless your heart! I know you wouldn't: you're not that sort."
"I hope she's not much like Gertie."
"Gosh, no! A different breed of cats altogether."
"Well, that's something to be thankful for."
"This is Mr. Sharp; Sid, shake hands with Mrs. Frank Taylor."
It was the first time that she had heard herself called by her new name.
It came as a distinct and not altogether pleasant shock.
Once again her husband lifted her in his strong arms to the back seat of
the rough-looking wagon and saw to it that she was warmly wrapped up,
for, although there was little or no snow to be seen at Prentice, the
night air was sharply chill. She moved over a little to make room for
him at her side; but without appearing to notice her action, he jumped
lightly onto the front seat beside his friend.
"Let 'em go, Sid. Everything all comfortable?" he asked, turning to
Nora.
"Quite, thanks."
Throughout the long cold drive, they exchanged no further word. Frank
and Sid seemed to have much to say to each other about their respective
farms. Nora gathered from what she could hear that Sharp had played the
part of a good neighbor, during her husband's enforced absence, in
having a general oversight of his house.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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