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- Джеймс Барри
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It
was
on
a
May
day
,
and
I
saw
Mary
accompany
her
husband
as
far
as
the
first
crossing
,
whence
she
waved
him
out
of
sight
as
if
he
had
boarded
an
Atlantic-liner
.
All
this
time
she
wore
the
face
of
a
woman
happily
married
who
meant
to
go
straight
home
,
there
to
await
her
lord
's
glorious
return
;
and
the
military-looking
gentleman
watching
her
with
a
bored
smile
saw
nothing
better
before
him
than
a
chapter
on
the
Domestic
Felicities
.
Oh
,
Mary
,
can
you
not
provide
me
with
the
tiniest
little
plot
?
Hallo
!
No
sooner
was
she
hid
from
him
than
she
changed
into
another
woman
;
she
was
now
become
a
calculating
purposeful
madam
,
who
looked
around
her
covertly
and
,
having
shrunk
in
size
in
order
to
appear
less
noticeable
,
set
off
nervously
on
some
mysterious
adventure
.
"
The
deuce
!
"
thought
I
,
and
followed
her
.
Like
one
anxious
to
keep
an
appointment
,
she
frequently
consulted
her
watch
,
looking
long
at
it
,
as
if
it
were
one
of
those
watches
that
do
not
give
up
their
secret
until
you
have
made
a
mental
calculation
.
Once
she
kissed
it
.
I
had
always
known
that
she
was
fond
of
her
cheap
little
watch
,
which
he
gave
her
,
I
think
,
on
the
day
I
dropped
the
letter
,
but
why
kiss
it
in
the
street
?
Ah
,
and
why
then
replace
it
so
hurriedly
in
your
leather-belt
,
Mary
,
as
if
it
were
guilt
to
you
to
kiss
to-day
,
or
any
day
,
the
watch
your
husband
gave
you
?
It
will
be
seen
that
I
had
made
a
very
rapid
journey
from
light
thoughts
to
uneasiness
.
I
wanted
no
plot
by
the
time
she
reached
her
destination
,
a
street
of
tawdry
shops
.
She
entered
none
of
them
,
but
paced
slowly
and
shrinking
from
observation
up
and
down
the
street
,
a
very
figure
of
shame
;
and
never
had
I
thought
to
read
shame
in
the
sweet
face
of
Mary
A
--
--
.
Had
I
crossed
to
her
and
pronounced
her
name
I
think
it
would
have
felled
her
,
and
yet
she
remained
there
,
waiting
.
I
,
too
,
was
waiting
for
him
,
wondering
if
this
was
the
man
,
or
this
,
or
this
,
and
I
believe
I
clutched
my
stick
.
Did
I
suspect
Mary
?
Oh
,
surely
not
for
a
moment
of
time
.
But
there
was
some
foolishness
here
;
she
was
come
without
the
knowledge
of
her
husband
,
as
her
furtive
manner
indicated
,
to
a
meeting
she
dreaded
and
was
ashamed
to
tell
him
of
;
she
was
come
into
danger
;
then
it
must
be
to
save
,
not
herself
but
him
;
the
folly
to
be
concealed
could
never
have
been
Mary
's
.
Yet
what
could
have
happened
in
the
past
of
that
honest
boy
from
the
consequences
of
which
she
might
shield
him
by
skulking
here
?
Could
that
laugh
of
his
have
survived
a
dishonour
?
The
open
forehead
,
the
curly
locks
,
the
pleasant
smile
,
the
hundred
ingratiating
ways
which
we
carry
with
us
out
of
childhood
,
they
may
all
remain
when
the
innocence
has
fled
,
but
surely
the
laugh
of
the
morning
of
life
must
go
.
I
have
never
known
the
devil
retain
his
grip
on
that
.
But
Mary
was
still
waiting
.
She
was
no
longer
beautiful
;
shame
had
possession
of
her
face
,
she
was
an
ugly
woman
.
Then
the
entanglement
was
her
husband
's
,
and
I
cursed
him
for
it
.
But
without
conviction
,
for
,
after
all
,
what
did
I
know
of
women
?
I
have
some
distant
memories
of
them
,
some
vain
inventions
.
But
of
men
--
I
have
known
one
man
indifferent
well
for
over
forty
years
,
have
exulted
in
him
(
odd
to
think
of
it
)
,
shuddered
at
him
,
wearied
of
him
,
been
willing
(
God
forgive
me
)
to
jog
along
with
him
tolerantly
long
after
I
have
found
him
out
;
I
know
something
of
men
,
and
,
on
my
soul
,
boy
,
I
believe
I
am
wronging
you
.
