But the more she fenced about to be agreeable the more he stitched
and sulked.
"Well, I can't miss _all_ the fun," said she at last: and so, having
laid supper for him, and put the jug where he could find it and draw
his cider, she clapped on her hat and strolled out.
He heard her shut-to the front door, and still he went on stitching.
When the dusk began to fall he lit a candle, fetched himself a jugful
of cider, and went back to his work. For all the notice Sal was ever
likely to take of his perversity, he might just as well have stepped
out into the streets and enjoyed himself: but he was wrought up into
that mood in which a man will hurt himself for the sake of having a
grievance. All the while he stitched he kept thinking, "Look at me
here, galling my fingers to the bone, and that careless fly-by-night
wife o' mine carousin' and gallivantin' down at the 'Sailor's
Return'! Maybe she'll be sorry for it when I'm dead and gone; but at
present if there's an injured, misunderstood poor mortal in Saltash
Town, I'm that man." So he went on, until by and by, above the noise
of the drum and cymbals outside the penny theatre, and the
hurdy-gurdies, and the showmen bawling down by the waterside, he
heard voices yelling and a rush of folks running down the street past
his door.
Pages:
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238