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From: | Lucas Cole |
Subject: | [Emacs-commit] destroy rightly |
Date: | Sun, 20 Aug 2006 21:54:14 -0400 |
If you have to give yourself to your husband,do so,
and obey him. Future in the world he could not give her. But in the day youare not
mine, because I have no power in the day.
She did not care, she did not grieve, she did not
fret any more. These mongrels had held the Press and the Britishpublic in abeyance
for almost two years.
They knew she waspoor, that she could not afford a
car, nor anything.
Her skin was white like ahot-house flower. She
submitted to him,bowing her head because she was his wife.
That the earth is a tiny ball of dry dung is good,
said Basil. From the breastshe loved him, and sent out love to him.
Two nights she sat just inside her room, by the
open door, andlistened.
It waslike a thread which she followed out of the
world: out of theworld. Of course, I dontmind WORK, mechanical action.
She opened her eyes, afraid lest she had disturbed
him.
Nothing can ever separate us, unless webetray one
another. If you are true to me, innerly, innerly true,he will not hurt us. He wanted
to entertain himas a guest before he went. I wasnt thinking, she said, looking at
him with candour.
Andwhen she went to him as his lover, his wife, it
was always dark.
And at the same moment up rose the whistlingthrob
of a summons out of the death moan. It began with arather dreary, slow, horrible
sound, like death.
Their lives fascinatedher: what they thought, what
they FELT. And thento fulfil myself, brooding through eternity. You will never leave
me anymore, in the after-death.
The distance between them seemedabsolute. They were
nearly always avoiding one another.
Come, thereis really an allowable distinction
between responsible power andbullying. Well, he said, smiling, I suppose it is best
to come to adecision about it.
She waited like one doomed, throughoutthe
day.
But I should like to hear more: I wouldlike to hear
more.
The curious feeling ofintimacy across a breach
fascinated her. Away to the right, beyond the park, was a village among trees,
andthe spark of a grey church spire. There was pain on his dark, low-browed
face.
Himself,he was labelled selfish, sensual, cruel,
etc. And at the same moment up rose the whistlingthrob of a summons out of the death
moan. These mongrels had held the Press and the Britishpublic in abeyance for almost
two years.
A dark-eyed youngwoman peeped in through the door,
with a roguish coyness.
He wanted to entertain himas a guest before he
went.
Night came, and the kind of swoon upon her.
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