He
had not the courage to approach and examine them one by one; he had
not the audacity to imagine leaps over them; yet somehow they had to
be surmounted. At this moment, whilst 'Arry was waiting for the
rejoinder to his last reply, Richard found himself wrestling again
with the troubles which had kept him wakeful for the last two
nights. He had believed them finally thrown and got rid of. Behold,
they were more stubborn than ever.
He kept silence so long that his brother spoke.
'What sort of a job is it?'
To his surprise, Richard displayed sudden anger.
'If you weren't such a young fool you'd see what's best for you, and
go on as I meant you to! What do you mean by saying you won't work?
If you weren't such a thickhead you might go to school and be taught
how to behave yourself, and how a man ought to live; but it's no use
sending _you_ to any such place. Can't you understand that a man
with money has to find some sort of position in the world? I suppose
you'd like to spend the rest of your life in public-houses and
music-halls?'
Richard was well aware that to give way to his temper was worse than
useless, and could only defeat every end; but something within him
just now gnawed so intolerably that there was nothing for it but an
outbreak. The difficulties of life were hedging him in--difficulties
he could not have conceived till they became matter of practical
experience.
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