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- Джеймс Барри
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- Стр. 29/132
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Then
Mary
is
here
for
some
innocent
purpose
,
to
do
a
good
deed
that
were
better
undone
,
as
it
so
scares
her
.
Turn
back
,
you
foolish
,
soft
heart
,
and
I
shall
say
no
more
about
it
.
Obstinate
one
,
you
saw
the
look
on
your
husband
's
face
as
he
left
you
.
It
is
the
studio
light
by
which
he
paints
and
still
sees
to
hope
,
despite
all
the
disappointments
of
his
not
ignoble
ambitions
.
That
light
is
the
dower
you
brought
him
,
and
he
is
a
wealthy
man
if
it
does
not
flicker
.
So
anxious
to
be
gone
,
and
yet
she
would
not
go
.
Several
times
she
made
little
darts
,
as
if
at
last
resolved
to
escape
from
that
detestable
street
,
and
faltered
and
returned
like
a
bird
to
the
weasel
.
Again
she
looked
at
her
watch
and
kissed
it
.
Oh
,
Mary
,
take
flight
.
What
madness
is
this
?
Woman
,
be
gone
.
Suddenly
she
was
gone
.
With
one
mighty
effort
and
a
last
terrified
look
round
,
she
popped
into
a
pawnshop
.
Long
before
she
emerged
I
understood
it
all
,
I
think
even
as
the
door
rang
and
closed
on
her
;
why
the
timid
soul
had
sought
a
street
where
she
was
unknown
,
why
she
crept
so
many
times
past
that
abhorred
shop
before
desperately
venturing
in
,
why
she
looked
so
often
at
the
watch
she
might
never
see
again
.
So
desperately
cumbered
was
Mary
to
keep
her
little
house
over
her
head
,
and
yet
the
brave
heart
was
retaining
a
smiling
face
for
her
husband
,
who
must
not
even
know
where
her
little
treasures
were
going
.
It
must
seem
monstrously
cruel
of
me
,
but
I
was
now
quite
light-hearted
again
.
Even
when
Mary
fled
from
the
shop
where
she
had
left
her
watch
,
and
I
had
peace
of
mind
to
note
how
thin
and
worn
she
had
become
,
as
if
her
baby
was
grown
too
big
for
her
slight
arms
,
even
then
I
was
light-hearted
.
Without
attempting
to
follow
her
,
I
sauntered
homeward
humming
a
snatch
of
song
with
a
great
deal
of
fal-de-lal-de-riddle-o
in
it
,
for
I
can
never
remember
words
.
I
saw
her
enter
another
shop
,
baby
linen
shop
or
some
nonsense
of
that
sort
,
so
it
was
plain
for
what
she
had
popped
her
watch
;
but
what
cared
I
?
I
continued
to
sing
most
beautifully
.
I
lunged
gayly
with
my
stick
at
a
lamp-post
and
missed
it
,
whereat
a
street-urchin
grinned
,
and
I
winked
at
him
and
slipped
twopence
down
his
back
.
I
presume
I
would
have
chosen
the
easy
way
had
time
been
given
me
,
but
fate
willed
that
I
should
meet
the
husband
on
his
homeward
journey
,
and
his
first
remark
inspired
me
to
a
folly
.
"
How
is
Timothy
?
"
he
asked
;
and
the
question
opened
a
way
so
attractive
that
I
think
no
one
whose
dull
life
craves
for
colour
could
have
resisted
it
.
"
He
is
no
more
,
"
I
replied
impulsively
