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Updated: May 31, 2025
She stopped him as he came across the room, holding out both her hands. Her wan face was strained as she gazed and gazed. Something of the beautiful softness of her features had passed for the moment. She was so anxious, so terrified lest she should misread what was written in his face. "Arnold!" she murmured. "Oh, Arnold!" He was a little startled.
Personal ambition, calculating mercenary selfishness had melted away in the volcanic madness that seized him, and to his own soul he acknowledged that his dominant and supreme wish was to gather in his arms and hold forever the condemned woman, who wore with such sublime serenity the livery of felony. After all, have we misread our classics?
But her glance was steady and her lips maintained their smile, just as if that ugliness of his had been invested with some abstract beauty existing only to her gaze; a little colour crept into her cheeks, and red being the colour of love's livery, Tressan misread its meaning.
"Ay, unless you misread the signal," a somewhat more discreet, but piping voice replied doubtfully. "I saw nothing of all you tell about." "Because you knew no meaning, nor read the instructions," a touch of anger in the tone. "I tell you it was all written out in that letter brought to me from England on the Wasp.
But not only are these desires misread, but the noblest of them are stifled. I have said that the condition of humanity is that of thirst.
I know he won't admit that he did misread it; however, I'll tell you the incident. In the Gloucester Wainwright was just off the harbor mouth when the two Spanish torpedo boat destroyers were noticed making straight at him. The Indiana signaled 'The enemy's torpedo boats are coming out. Wainwright read it 'Close in and attack enemy's torpedo boats, and you know the rest of the story.
Then on their heels followed an angry denial of responsibility, mingled with alarm and revolt. Was he to be robbed of Lucy because Eleanor had misread him? No doubt she had imprinted what she pleased on Lucy's mind. Was he indeed undone? for good and all? Then shame, pity, rushed upon him headlong. He dared not look at the face beside him with its record of pain.
She would never know how much he had cared for her, how much he cared for her still; inasmuch as the conclusive proof for himself was his conscious reluctance to care for another woman evidence she positively misread. Some day he would doubtless try to do that; but such a day seemed as yet far off, and he had meanwhile no spite, no vindictive impulse, to help him.
"This house has been about the rottenest place ever, for I don't know how long!" Philip did not say anything, but Susan did not misread the look in his tired eyes. After dinner they kept him a place by the fire while he went up to see his mother. When he came down twenty minutes later he seemed troubled. "Mother says that we're imposing on you, Sue," he said.
"How did you send your letter?" she asked, with a suppressed excitement which he misread entirely. "By the usual route. I wrote off at once." "Liar! liar! liar!" she shrieked. She had risen, and stood pointing an accusatory finger at him. Then suddenly the dramatic force of the situation seemed to fail, and she burst out laughing.
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