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Updated: May 25, 2025
These four were very fat and one evening the children's father made a remark about this portrait that made their mother laugh delightedly. Benji was in his cot. Huggo had just come from his bath and was having his toes wiped by his mother because he declared Muffet had not dried them properly. He said Muffet groaned when she stooped. His mother said, "You know, Harry, Muffet is getting fat.
She had thrown herself upon its flood; not yielded to it as one drawn in by rising waters, but tempestuously engulfed by it and borne away upon it as swallowed up and borne away in Harry's arms when "Rosalie! Rosalie!" he had cried to her. That which the subsidence revealed, adoringly she called her Huggo. There was a mirage in her face.
We'll try to feel her mind with that; to let that explain her when she said this else, and when she wrote some things that shall be given. She said she had suffered, in that moment of crying out to Huggo and of stretching out her arm to him, the most extraordinary what was the word? the most extraordinary hallucination. "Harry, when Huggo said that frightful thing!
She seemed to go out more. The pain within that house, brought there by Huggo, seemed to make that house more than before unbearable to Doda. She often spent the night, or the week end away, staying with the foreign friend, she generally said. She would have nothing whatever to do with the baby now installed in the house. She never would go near it.
She gasped out, "Huggo!" but Harry had heard, and Harry, perhaps in offset to the emotion he had displayed, smashed his hand down on the table before him and cried out, "Well, keep your mouth shut about it then! Couldn't stick it! What can you be? What can be the matter with you? Couldn't stick it! Tidborough! The finest school in the world! Couldn't stick it!" She interposed, "Harry, dear!
Harry, we're not by any means the only family that doesn't spend the whole of its holidays together. It's rather the practice nowadays, young people visiting their friends. If you think Huggo shouldn't you can say so." "Yes, I can say that. Tell me this. Is it going to give him a home?" Her voice sprung from a sudden higher note. "Oh, you insist, you insist!" she cried.
Her voice that had gone high went numb. She made a gesture, as to the same reason and with the same words she'd made before, of weariness with this thing, "Ah, my God, that reason!" Strike on! Look, there's Huggo, failing again to get his remove, superannuated, withdrawn. There's Harry having a scene with the boy. There ought to be tears. There are tears.
She had come one evening, early in the life of Huggo, when a change had to be made from the nurse who specialised only up to the point then reached by Huggo, and she had presented herself to them, seated together in Harry's study, a short body, one shape and a solid shape from her shoulders to her shoes, who announced her name as Muffett. "Miss Muffett, I hope," said Harry gravely.
She seems to keep her talking for her friends and she never brings her friends home. She's on good terms with Rosalie. That's the expression for it. She was to have been a woman treasury into which was to be poured by Rosalie all her woman love. She was to have been a woman with her mother in the house of Harry and of Huggo. But that's all done. She's not a daughter to her mother.
The one that was her baby girl, that was her tiny daughter! The one that was to be her woman treasury in which she'd pour her woman love; that was to be her self's own self, her heart's own heart, her tiny woman-bud to be a woman with her in the house of Harry and of Huggo! Her Doda! Look, there she is! There's lovely Doda! She's fourteen. It's early in 1915, in the first twelve months of the war.
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