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Updated: June 9, 2025
Does she understand what you have been going through?" Brenton's lips stiffened. "I have not meant to keep anything back from her. How far she has grasped all it has meant to me However, in honour, I have done my best." And, despite the weakening drop of his voice on the final phrases, the doctor believed him.
"Most men would be impossible in such a situation," she said to her father, one morning in early August. "You would be a caricature, and, as for a man like Mr. Brenton " "Hush! Speak of angels!" her father warned her. Then, in another tone, he added, "Morning, Brenton. You're up early; aren't you?" But Brenton's face refused to light in answer to the doctor's greeting.
That this one must now be permanent not even Scott Brenton's theological tenets could leave him room for doubt. Catia's cause for mourning was by far more practical. She realized that it was Mrs. Brenton who had provided her with a professional husband, in place of the petty farmers and shopkeepers who, otherwise, had bounded her horizon. Moreover, she missed Mrs.
They had been, indeed, at the back of her abstraction, when Dolph Dennison had greeted her, that January morning. Mingled with them, too, had been some other questions, questions akin to those lashing Scott Brenton's brain. However, in the case of Olive, they were incidental. With Brenton, they shook the foundations of his whole professional career.
There came an instantaneous check upon the baby's eagerness. The head turned, while the eyes met Brenton's without a spark of response.
"No; so that you could obliterate Brenton's image from her mind." "What do you mean, Dennison?" Reed spoke sternly. Dolph threw himself back in his chair and answered at the ceiling. "I am not sure I mean anything at all. Olive has sense enough for a dozen, and Brenton is a married man, with a vampire for a wife."
The things were courteous as concerned the past; to Scott Brenton's mind, they were dazzling as concerned the future. The dazzle had endured until his mother's words had fallen on his ears. Then it had eclipsed itself, leaving him to wonder whether, after all, it had not been the ignis fatuus of self-elation, and not the steady glow of truth.
Give a man a dozen years or so of the mental starvation of a New England wilderness, and then all at once fill him chock full of new ideas, and he gets a pain within him, just as painful a pain as if it were in his tummy, not his mind. In time, it leads to chronic indigestion. That's what Brenton's got." "Yes; but that is cause, not extenuating circumstance," Whittenden objected.
The nurse was with him, watching. Katharine, furious beneath her scientific calm, came and went at intervals; but the doctor's bottle and spoon were in the breast pocket of Brenton's clerical coat, the doctor's written schedule was set down in duplicate on Brenton's cuff. And Brenton, too tired to be really weary, never once left his chair beside the frilly crib.
Rattleton was concerned never went slowly; and in the present case the necessity for getting back in time for the races really compelled haste. And so it came to pass that not until the Fleetwings was off the Brenton's Reef light-ship, with her nose pointed well up into the north-east, was there framed in Mr.
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