She had said, "another time, if necessary."
His mouth drew into a set line--there would be another and another,
until he had persuaded, gained, her.
He lit a cigar, and walked discontentedly up and across the room. The
sound of the Forge hammer again crept into his consciousness: the Penny
iron--the fibre, the actuality, of the Penny men! He repeated this
arrogantly; but the declaration no longer brought reassurance; the
certainty even of the iron faded from him; he had failed there, too,
digging a pit of oblivion for all that their generations of toil had
accomplished. The past inexorably woven into the pattern of the future!
Eunice, so soon wary, distrustful, Susan had seen that immediately,
would perpetuate all that he wished dead--Essie and himself bound
together, projected in an undesirable immortality through endless lives
striving, like himself, to escape from old chains.
If he failed with Susan his existence would have been an unmitigated
evil; the iron, his petty, material triumphs, would rust, but the other
go on and on. His thoughts became a maze of pity for Eunice, infinite
regret of the past, a bitter energy of hope for what might follow.
He turned with pride to his forging--long-wrought charcoal iron; the
world would know no better.
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