Mrs. Ashwood could not stand the dreadful twilight.
"But take away your lamp and you'll have light enough from the sunset,"
responded Jack.
That was just what she didn't want! The light from the window was that
horrid vulgar red glow which she hated. It might be very romantic and
suit lovers like Jack, but as SHE had some work to do, she wanted the
blue shade of the lamp to correct that dreadful glare.
CHAPER XII.
John Milton had rowed back without lifting his eyes to Mrs. Ashwood's
receding figure. He believed that he was right in declining her
invitation, although he had a miserable feeling that it entailed seeing
her for the last time. With all that he believed was his previous
experience of the affections, he was still so untutored as to be
confused as to his reasons for declining, or his right to have been
shocked and disappointed at her manner. It seemed to him sufficiently
plain that he had offended the most perfect woman he had ever known
without knowing more. The feeling he had for her was none the
less powerful because, in his great simplicity, it was vague and
unformulated. And it was a part of this strange simplicity that in his
miserable loneliness his thoughts turned unconsciously to his dead wife
for sympathy and consolation. Loo would have understood him!
Mr. Fletcher, who had received him on his arrival with singular
effusiveness and cordiality, had put off their final arrangements until
after dinner, on account of pressing business.
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