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Updated: June 9, 2025
She could have dreamed of another sort of wife for her boy, for Catie's crudeness occasionally irritated her, Catie's self-centred ambition, her intervals of density sometimes came upon Mrs. Brenton's nerves. However, girls were scarce upon the horizon of the Brentons. Catie was not perfect; but, at least, she might be infinitely worse.
"Because she is a semi-maniac, she's not to be encouraged in her destruction of the human race," he argued hotly. Then, as he saw the tightening and the whitening of Brenton's lips, he forgot his argument in swift contrition. "Damn it all, Brenton! I vowed I'd never mention the thing to you again, as long as I lived, and here I am again, off on the same old subject.
Hopdyke that he must harise and leave 'is disease be'ind 'im; and hit seemed to me, sir, I'd best telephone to you, for fear he'd be doing a thing so rash, and 'urt 'imself for ever. I trust," he now addressed himself to Opdyke; "trust there was no liberty taken, sir." Reed laughed, despite the fact that the encounter with Mrs. Brenton's new theology had left him feeling most ignobly weak.
Much as I care for Reed, it was you who had the insight to plan how he could make his life over into something besides the bare existence we all were dreading. In the same way, I may be the one to take in the tragedy of Mr. Brenton's indeterminate existence, and make it just a little lighter, if only by my understanding. Anyway, I mean to try."
I should have supposed you'd have known better than that, before you got your license." Brenton's lips curved into the little smile she always dreaded. Because she dreaded it, it antagonized her. "Did you?" he queried. Her antagonism lent a tartness to her reply. "I never professed to go through a divinity school," she retorted. "If I had, though " Her pause was fraught with meaning.
It was a month or two before he asked that question of Doctor Eustace Keltridge; but, in the end, it was bound to come. Whatever a man in Brenton's position might think inside himself, professionally he must talk of Providence, and of divine dispensations, and of all the rest of his ecclesiastical stock in trade.
"Yes, yes; Alf Heywood, as was in Brenton's millinery establishment, top of Regent Street. Him as give you that green dress. Don't you recall?" Cuckoo shook her head. "Green, with white lace on it," he continued, with nervous emphasis. Suddenly Cuckoo said: "White; no, it was yellow." Mr. Heywood was delighted at this evidence of recollection. "So it was, so it was," he said.
"You must see the laboratory here, Mr. Brenton, if you care for such things. Girls? Oh, yes, of course; but you'll soon get past regarding that as any handicap. In fact, according to Professor Opdyke, it is one of the best equipped laboratories in the country." But Brenton's attention had wandered from the fact, caught by one of the minor details which surrounded it.
Brenton longed to stiffen himself against the mastery, but he could not. His ineffectual effort lent an edge of sarcasm to his tone. "When the eye of the parish is upon me, I read out the Nicene Creed in the deepest voice at my disposal. When " "This is rather beneath your customary methods, Brenton," his companion interrupted him. "But go on." Brenton's lips shut hard together for a minute.
There was a fair wind, which sent the boat smoothly along with little or no motion as they glided past the long sunken shoal off the end of Goat Island, and opened the view of Brenton's Cove, with the wreck of the old slaver lying in the deep shadow under one bank, opposite the ribs of the other stranded bark; while from beyond in the laughing bay, white-winged boats flitted to and fro, and seemed to beckon and make tempting signals to the poor defeated barks who might never sail or enjoy the sea again.
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