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Updated: May 6, 2025
Cally Heth sat silent.... As the man reached the climax of his madness, the girl's hard challenging gaze, as if by some miracle of his ministering angels, had suddenly wavered and broken. Her eyes flitted from his face, rested fixedly on a hideous sprawling pile on the corner ahead, an abode of trade exceptionally repellent to all the senses.
You were inspecting your father's business a minute before you knew it.... Cally, of course, had had not the faintest idea what to expect at the Works. She had prepared herself to view horrors with calm and detachment, if such proved to be the iron law of business. But, gazing confusedly at the dim, novel spectacle that so suddenly confronted her, she saw nothing of the kind.
The room was one o' the kind when they ain't no women or children. An' then, when she see all that, pretty soon she looked back at him, layin' sick in his chair, alone an' done for, like he said. An' I see her take her arms in her hands an' kind o' rock. "'Ain't the little fellow a care to you, Cally? he says then, wistful.
He left this beginning hanging in midair, while he turned, without apology, to accept the humble duties of three new arrivals. Cally waited patiently. Mrs. She would give at least part of her time to doing something solid.... Director Pond, turning back to her, concluded: "When we are both well aware that you don't care a continental what sort of meetings are going to be held here?"
Cally, having looked at herself in the mirror, trailed into the drawing-room with a somewhat cool and challenging civility. But her coolness soon melted away, under the visitor's strange but seemingly genuine cordiality. It became clear that she had come in the vein of amity, and without sinister motives; though why, if not for Settlement funds, could not be imagined. Mrs.
Cally's face was framed in an engaging little turn-down hat of gold-brown and yellow, about which was carelessly festooned a long and fine brown veil. Hen, gazing rather wistfully, thought that Cally grew lovelier every year. "I'll tell you, Cally!" she said, suddenly. "Do you know what you ought to do? Talk to V.V. about all this!"
The two stood looking at each other. Color came into Cally's cheek; came but soon departed. The long gold-and-black lashes, which surely had been made for ornaments, fluttered and fell. Out of the dead silence she said, with some difficulty: "It's very sweet of you to say that." Cally moved away from him, toward the door, deeply touched.
His life was needed ... wonderfully, for such a boy. And yet.... How could a man wish it better with himself? He wouldn't, that I'm sure of.... Gave away his life every day, and at the end flung it all out at once, to save a factory negro. Don't you know that if he'd lived a thousand years, he could never have put one touch to that?" Cally said unsteadily: "I know that's true...."
She did it, needless to say, scientifically, by saying with just the plausible degree of interest: "I meant to ask you what on earth was the trouble with Hortense, Hen? I supposed she was a perfect fixture with you, an institution!" "What's the trouble with all the servants in this town?" cried Hen. "I tell you, Cally, I don't know what's going to become of us. Why ..."
This time, at parting, he did not touch his former betrothed's hand. His bow was accompanied by a slightly ironic smile; it seemed to say: "Since you prefer it this way, my dear ... But really what's the use?" Cally, snapping out the lights, felt vaguely depressed.
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