" The mild Uncle Roderick
turned upon her with a "What do you know about it, young lady?" so
charged with suppressed savagery that the whole round table gave one gasp
and went dumb for the rest of the meal. He took no notice whatever of
Flora de Barral. I don't think it was from prudence or any calculated
motive. I believe he was so full of her aspects that he did not want to
look in her direction when there were other people to hamper his
imagination.
You understand I am piecing here bits of disconnected statements. Next
day Flora saw him leaning over the field-gate. When she told me this, I
didn't of course ask her how it was she was there. Probably she could
not have told me how it was she was there. The difficulty here is to
keep steadily in view the then conditions of her existence, a combination
of dreariness and horror.
That hermit-like but not exactly misanthropic sailor was leaning over the
gate moodily. When he saw the white-faced restless Flora drifting like a
lost thing along the road he put his pipe in his pocket and called out
"Good morning, Miss Smith" in a tone of amazing happiness.
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