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Updated: June 13, 2025
Kirsteen interrupted in her calm, staccato voice with just the faintest lisp: "Stanley would not understand." She had put her arm through Tod's, but never removed her eyes from her brother-in-law's face. "Possibly," said Felix, "but you must remember that Stanley, John, and myself represent ordinary what shall we say level-headed opinion." "With which we have nothing in common, I'm afraid."
And, trembling with nervousness, Nedda took her plunge, pouring out the whole story of Derek's letter; their journey down; her father's talk with him; the visit to Tryst's body; their walk by the river; and of how haunted and miserable he was. Showing the little note he had left that morning, she clasped her hands and said: "Oh, Aunt Kirsteen, make him happy again!
With another long look through narrowing eyes, Kirsteen answered: "Yes. You would want truth. But after marriage truth is an unhappy thing, Nedda, if you have made a mistake." "It must be dreadful. Awful." "So don't make a mistake, my dear and don't let him." Nedda answered solemnly: "I won't oh, I won't!"
"With the masterly inactivity," Felix said suddenly, in a voice more bitter than Nedda had ever heard from him, "of authority, money, culture, and philosophy. With the disapproval that lifts no finger winking at tyrannies lest worse befall us. Yes, WE brethren we and so we shall go on doing. Quite right, Kirsteen!" "No. The world is changing, Felix, changing!" But Nedda had started up.
Then came two laborers, on their way to a job, a stone-breaker, and two more women. It was through this little throng that the mother-child and Kirsteen passed into the fast-being-gutted cottage. The agent was standing by Tryst's bed, keeping up a stream of comment to two of his men, who were taking that aged bed to pieces.
You'll find him in the orchard." She had a ringing voice, full of warmth. Lifting his hat, Felix passed on. They WERE a couple! Strange, attractive, almost frightening. Kirsteen had brought his brother a formidable little brood. Arriving at the cottage, he went up its mossy stones and through the wicket gate.
She stirred at that, smiled up at him, and instantly went off again. And he thought: 'Poor little sweetheart, she WAS tired! And a passionate desire to guard her from trials and troubles came on him. At four o'clock Kirsteen slipped in again, and whispered: "She made me promise to come for her. How pretty she looks, sleeping!" "Yes," Felix answered; "pretty and good!"
At those words from Felix, Frances Freeland, gazing first at him and then at Kirsteen, said in a pained voice: "I don't think you ought to talk like that, Kirsteen, dear. Nobody who's at all nice means to be unkind. We're all forgetful sometimes. I know I often forget to be sympathetic. It vexes me dreadfully!" "Mother, don't defend tyranny!" "I'm sure it's often from the best motives, dear."
She was a very good child, and quite useful in the house. And while she was speaking she watched Kirsteen, and thought: 'She is very handsome, and altogether ladylike; only it is such a pity she wears that blue thing in her hair it makes her so conspicuous. And rather unexpectedly she said: "Do you know, dear, I believe I know the very thing to keep your hair from getting loose.
Becket was almost, as Felix knew though perhaps it wasn't for her to say so the centre of that movement; but there were ways of doing things, and one did so deprecate women like this Kirsteen what an impossibly Celtic name! putting her finger into any pie that really was of national importance. Nothing could come of anything done that sort of way.
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