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Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"The Custom of the Country"


She had fancied her avowal of loneliness might call forth some
sentimental phrase; but though Moffatt was clearly pleased to be with
her she saw that she was not the centre of his thoughts, and the
discovery irritated her.
"I don't suppose YOU'VE known what it is to be lonely since you've been
in Europe?" she continued as she held out his tea-cup.
"Oh," he said jocosely, "I don't always go round with a guide"; and she
rejoined on the same note: "Then perhaps I shall see something of you."
"Why, there's nothing would suit me better; but the fact is, I'm
probably sailing next week."
"Oh, are you? I'm sorry." There was nothing feigned in her regret.
"Anything I can do for you across the pond?"
She hesitated. "There's something you can do for me right off."
He looked at her more attentively, as if his practised eve had passed
through the surface of her beauty to what might be going on behind it.
"Do you want my blessing again?" he asked with sudden irony.
Undine opened her eyes with a trustful look. "Yes--I do."
"Well--I'll be damned!" said Moffatt gaily.
"You've always been so awfully nice," she began; and he leaned back,
grasping both sides of the chair-back, and shaking it a little with his
laugh.
He kept the same attitude while she proceeded to unfold her case,
listening to her with the air of sober concentration that his frivolous
face took on at any serious demand on his attention. When she had ended
he kept the same look during an interval of silent pondering.


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