More than a year ago she thought that the worst
was over, and since then had known the solace of self-forgetful
idealisms, of ascetic striving. It was all illusion, the spinning of
a desolate heart. There was no help now, for she knew herself and
the world. Foolish, foolish child, who with her own hand had flung
away the jewel of existence like a thing of no price! Her lot
appeared single in its haplessness. She thought of Stella, of Letty,
even of Alice; _they_ had not been doomed to learn in suffering. To
her, alone of all women, knowledge had come with a curse.
A month passed. Since Rodman's departure from Wanley, 'Arry Mutimer
was living at the Manor. Her husband and 'Arry were Adela's sole
companions; the former she dreaded, the approach of the latter
always caused her insuperable disgust. To Letty there was born a
son; Adela could not bend to the little one with a whole heart; her
own desolate motherhood wailed the more bitterly.
Once more a change was coming. Alice and her husband were going to
spend August at a French watering-place, and Mutimer proposed to
join them for a fortnight; Adela of course would be of the party.
The invitation came from Rodman, who had reasons for wishing to get
his brother-in-law aside for a little quiet talk. Rodman had large
views, was at present pondering a financial scheme in which he
needed a partner--one with capital of course.
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