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Updated: May 20, 2025
But whether it was clean or whether it was dirty, Ranny loved it, and became more and more absorbed in it. And with Ranny's absorption Violet's irritability returned and increased, and sullenness set in for days at a time without intermission. "This," said Ranny, "is the joie de veeve." Three more months passed.
But if you're worrying about that divorce, you needn't. You'll get it all right. The the thing'll be sent you in a week or a fortnight." "Ranny," she said, "are you really doin' it?" "Of course I'm doing it." "I didn't know." "Well you might have known." He was deaf to the terror in her voice. "I'd have done it years ago if I'd had the money. It isn't my fault we've had to wait for it.
It seems somehow so beautiful their coming and finding them and getting things for them; and at the same time it seems somehow sad." She paused. "I don't mean that you're sad, Ranny. You know what I mean." He did. He had felt it too, the beauty and the sadness, but he couldn't have put it into words. It was the sadness and the beauty of life.
For Violet persisted in her strange refusal, in spite of Ranny's remonstrances, his entreaties, his appeals. "It's been trouble enough," she said, "without that." She was sitting up in her chair before the bedroom fire. They were alone. The nurse was downstairs at her supper. The Baby lay between them in its cradle, wrapped in a white shawl. Ranny was watching it.
"We can't begin to pay you what we owe you," she said in her most conventional tone. "If things go as we hope they will, it will mean everything to Uncle Ranny as well as to Papa Claude." "I didn't do it for them only," Quin blurted out. "I didn't want you to borrow money from Captain Phipps." The temptation to encourage this special spark was not to be resisted. "You don't love Mr.
So as I can be good. Father's turned me out, Ranny." "Your father?" "I went to him first. I didn't think I'd any right to come to you after I'd served you like I did." "Oh, never mind how you served me. What's Mercier been doing?" "He's got married." "Just like him. I thought he was going to marry you?" "He wouldn't wait for me. He couldn't. He thought you were never going to get your divorce.
Virile in its adolescence, it had kept its youth in its maturity. Ranny's face expressed him. It was fine and clean; it had not one mean or faltering line in it. And his figure had not, after all, deteriorated. Flabbiness was as far from him as it had been in his youth. With infinite precautions, Ranny opened a drawer where he found a small japanned tin box, very new.
He showed it in his ill-considered and ungovernable determination to be born, and it was hard to say which of them, Ranny or his mother, more nearly died of it. She must have been aware that there was a hitch somewhere; for, referring again and again, as she did, to Ranny's venturesomeness, she would say, "It beats me where he gets it from."
Ranny had received his first intimation that he was not a free man. And it had come upon him with something of a shock. He had made his burst for freedom five years ago, when he refused to be a Pharmaceutical Chemist in his father's shop, because he could not stand his father's ubiquity.
Quin broke in impatiently; then he pulled himself up. "However, if you don't want to do 'em a good turn, that settles it." "But it doesn't settle it," said Mr. Ranny. "What are you going to do with them?" "Hanged if I know," said Quin; "but you bet I'll do something."
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