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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

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She turned and found Lady Mildmay beside her; Sir Winterton's wife was
smiling, but there were tears in her eyes.
"And do get your husband home to bed; he looks terribly, terribly tired.
I'm afraid he's not nearly as strong as Winterton; but I'm sure you take
great care of him."
"Not so much as I ought to." Lady Mildmay, accustomed to straightforward
emotions, was puzzled at the half-bitter half-merry tone. "I mean I egg
him on when perhaps I ought to hold him back. I know he ought to rest,
but I never want him to--never really want it, you know." Lady Mildmay
still looked puzzled. "He's at his best working," said May.
"Well, but you must want him to yourself sometimes anyhow, and that's a
rest for him."
Oh, the differences of people and fates! That was May's not original but
irresistible reflection when Lady Mildmay left her. Want him to herself!
Never--or never as Lady Mildmay meant, anyhow. She only wanted a good
place whence to look at him.
She had one more encounter before Jimmy Benyon came to take her home.
Japhet Williams came up to her and made her shake hands.


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