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Her dispassionate attitude launched me into wild tales of Farthest America, wherein thirty-storied buildings, elevated and underground railways, beautiful theatres and parks, cars which ran without horses or steam, and millions of inhabitants produced no impression whatsoever, my most improbable tale being received with a diffident condescension, equalled only by the metrical repose that stamps the caste of Vere de Vere.
"And now, I cannot live without you," he said. "You must be mine. Won't you, Maude? I will be a good husband. I will take lessons of Cousin James, who is called a pattern man." The mention of that name was unfortunate, and rising to her feet, Maude replied: "I cannot answer you now, Mr. De Vere. I should say No, if I did, I am sure, and I would rather think of it a while."
Had he not said to himself one day, as his boat glided past the sloping gardens of Posilipo, "Vere must be happy." Yet that evening he had made her unhappy. He had come to the island from his self-examination strong in the determination to be really himself, no longer half self-deceived and so deceiving. He had gone out upon the terrace, and waited there.
Captain Vere on hearing the news ran down and examined the wall. "Yes," he said, "it is evidently going. A good earthwork is worth a dozen of these walls. They will soon have the castle about our ears. However, it is of no great importance to us. I saw you lads just now on the wall; I did not care about ordering you down at the time; but don't go up again except to help to carry down the wounded.
I have had only one or two short illnesses in my life I have never known the weariness and disappointment " "No, but you have other trials. You have so much to bear, and it is so dull and wretched for you all the time," interrupted Vere quickly, too much engrossed in her own affairs to realise that it was not the most polite thing in the world to denounce another girl's surroundings.
"Something to do with Ruffo?" she repeated. Suddenly she moved, she got up. And all the fear had come back to her face, with something added to it, something intensely personal. "Do you mean is Ruffo dead?" she whispered. A voice rose up from the sea singing a sad little song. Vere turned towards the sea. All her body relaxed. The voice passed on.
"Well," said the mother at last, "and what does Ruffo say for himself, Vere?" "Ruffo? Oh, I don't know." She paused, then added: "I think he has rather a hard time, do you know, Madre?" Hermione had taken off her hat. She laid it on a table and sat down. She was feeling tired. "But generally he looks so gay, so strong. Don't you remember that first day you saw him?" "Ah then!"
I've never been out of Minnesota in my life, but there's couple mountains and oceans and things I thought I'd like to see, so I just put my suitcase and Vere de Vere in the machine, and started out. I burn distillate instead of gas, so it doesn't cost much. If I ever happen to have five whole dollars, why, I might go on to Japan!" "That would be jolly."
She got up, resolved to go to Vere. When she was there, with her child, she did not know what she was going to do. She had said to Vere, "Keep your secrets." What if she went now and humbled herself, explained to the child quite simply and frankly a mother's jealousy, a widow's loneliness, made her realize what she was in a life from which the greatest thing had been ruthlessly withdrawn?
I was only thinking what a quantity of people pass by, and wondering where they were all going, and what they were all thinking and hoping. I don't know why they should have come into my head just then. I suppose it will soon be time for us to start for the festa." "Yes. We'll have coffee in my sitting-room when they are ready." He looked again at Vere and the Marchesino. "Have we all finished?
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