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T II177
He carried her into her room. It was like her to have left it so neat and
ordered--each thing in its place--her out-door shoes standing decorously
together under the windowand her best skirt peeping out from behind the
cretonne curtain. Her hair-brushwith the comb planted in its bristleslay
exactly in the middle of the pine-wood dressing-table. When she had put it
thereshe had not known that it was for the last time.
Or had she known? She had called out to him so insistently. She had
wanted to say good-bye. And he had gone onnot answering.
They said that peopleat the endsaw their whole life pass before them.
Perhaps she had seen hers. Perhaps she had trodden the old road that he was
travelling over now. Only her vision of it would be different. It was James
Stonehouse and Robert's mother that she would see--radiant figures of
wonderfulunlucky people--and little Robertwho belonged to both of
themtagging in the rear.
But he saw her--Christine lying white and still under the great mahogany
side-boardChristine coming back day after day in gallant patience to scrub
the floors and his earsand pay the bills and chase away the dunsand do
whatever was necessary to keep the staggering Ston [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]yilai:
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