I seen" and "If I had've known." But what would grammar matter if he really loved her? He could not make up his mind whether to like her or despise her for what she had done. Of course he had done it too. His instinct urged him to remain free, not to marry. Once you are married you are done for, it said.
While he was sitting helplessly on the side of the bed in shirt and trousers she tapped lightly at his door and entered. She told him all, that she had made a clean breast of it to her mother and that her mother would speak with him that morning. She cried and threw her arms round his neck, saying:
"O Bob! Bob! What am I to do? What am I to do at all?"
She would put an end to herself, she said.
He comforted her feebly, telling her not to cry, that it would be all right, never fear. He felt against his shirt the agitation of her bosom.
It was not altogether his fault that it had happened. He remembered well, with the curious patient memory of the celibate, the first casual caresses her dress, her breath, her fingers had given him. Then late one night as he was undressing for she had tapped at his door, timidly. She wanted to relight her candle at his for hers had been blown out by a gust. It was her bath night. She wore a loose open combing- jacket of printed flannel. Her white instep shone in the opening of her furry slippers and the blood glowed warmly behind her perfumed skin. From her hands and wrists too as she lit and steadied her candle a faint perfume arose.
On nights when he came in very late it was she who warmed up his dinner. He scarcely knew what he was eating feeling her beside him alone, at night, in the sleeping house. And her thoughtfulness! If the night was anyway cold or wet or windy there was sure to be a little tumbler of punch ready for him. Perhaps they could be happy together....
They used to go upstairs together on tiptoe, each with a candle, and on the third landing exchange reluctant goodnights. They used to kiss. He remembered well her eyes, the touch of her hand and his delirium....
But delirium passes. He echoed her phrase, applying it to himself: "What am I to do?" The instinct of the celibate warned him to hold back. But the sin was there; even his sense of honour told him that reparation must be made for such a sin.
While he was sitting with her on the side of the bed Mary came to the door and said that the missus wanted to see him in the parlour. He stood up to put on his coat and waistcoat, more helpless than ever. When he was dressed he went over to her to comfort her. It would be all right, never fear. He left her crying on the bed and moaning softly: "O my God!"
Going down the stairs his glasses became so dimmed with moisture that he had to take them off and polish them. He longed to ascend through the roof and fly away to another country where he would never hear again of his trouble, and yet a force pushed him downstairs step by step. The implacable faces of his employer and of the Madam stared upon his discomfiture. On the last flight of stairs he passed Jack Mooney who was coming up from the pantry nursing two bottles of Bass. They saluted coldly; and the lover's eyes rested for a second or two on a thick bulldog face and a pair of thick short arms. When he reached the foot of the staircase he glanced up and saw Jack regarding him from the door of the return-room.
Suddenly he remembered the night when one of the musichall artistes, a little blond Londoner, had made a rather free allusion to Polly. The reunion had been almost broken up on account of Jack's violence. Everyone tried to quiet him. The music-hall artiste, a little paler than usual, kept smiling and saying that there was no harm meant: but Jack kept shouting at him that if any fellow tried that sort of a game on with his sister he'd bloody well put his teeth down his throat, so he would.
Polly sat for a little time on the side of the bed, crying. Then she dried her eyes and went over to the looking-glass. She dipped the end of the towel in the water-jug and refreshed her eyes with the cool water. She looked at herself in profile and readjusted a hairpin above her ear. Then she went back to the bed again and sat at the foot. She regarded the pillows for a long time and the sight of them awakened in her mind secret, amiable memories. She rested the nape of her neck against the cool iron bed-rail and fell into a reverie. There was no longer any perturbation visible on her face.
She waited on patiently, almost cheerfully, without alarm. her memories gradually giving place to hopes and visions of the future. Her hopes and visions were so intricate that she no longer saw the white pillows on which her gaze was fixed or remembered that she was waiting for anything.
At last she heard her mother calling. She started to her feet and ran to the banisters.
"Polly! Polly!"
"Yes, mamma?"
"Come down, dear. Mr. Doran wants to speak to you."
Then she remembered what she had been waiting for.
ผมเห็น"และ"ถ้าผม รู้จักกัน" แต่อะไรจะไวยากรณ์ว่าจริง ๆ รักเธอ เขาไม่สามารถสร้างขึ้นจิตใจของเขาว่าจะชอบเธอ หรือดูถูกเธอในสิ่งที่เธอได้กระทำ แน่นอนเขาทำมันเกินไป สัญชาตญาณของเขากระตุ้นให้เขายังคงฟรี การแต่งงาน เมื่อคุณแต่งงาน คุณจะทำได้ จึงกล่าวว่าในขณะที่เขานั่งซมด้านในเสื้อและกางเกงของ เธอเบา ๆ เคาะที่ประตูของเขา และป้อน เธอบอกทั้งหมด ที่เธอได้ทำเต้านมที่ดีของแม่ของเธอ และการที่แม่ของเธอจะพูดกับเขาว่าตอนเช้า เธอร้อง และโยนแขนรอบคอเขา พูดว่า:"O Bob บ๊อบ ว่าฉันจะทำอย่างไร ที่ผมทำเลย"เธอจะตัดขาดตัวเอง เธอกล่าวเขา comforted เธอ feebly บอกเธอไม่ร้องไห้ ว่า ได้ ไม่กลัวการ เขารู้สึกกับเสื้อของเขาอาการกังวลต่อของอกเธอไม่ทั้งหมดของข้อบกพร่องที่จะเกิด เขาจำได้ดี ความอยากรู้อยากเห็นผู้ป่วยจำของการโสด ลำลองแรก caresses แต่งตัวของเธอ ลมหายใจของเธอ นิ้วมือของเธอมีให้เขา แล้ว คืนหนึ่งดึกเป็นเขาถูก undressing สำหรับ เธอมาเคาะที่ประตูของเขา timidly เธออยาก relight เทียนที่เขาสำหรับเธอเธอมีการเป่าออก โดย gust มันเป็นคืนของเธออาบน้ำ เธอสวมแบบหลวมเปิด combing-เสื้อของผ้าขนหนูพิมพ์ Shone instep สีขาวของเธอในการเปิดของรองเท้าแตะของเธอขนยาว และเลือด glowed อย่างอบอุ่นหลังผิวระเหย จากมือของเธอและข้อ เกินไปเธอสว่าง และ steadied เธอเทียนหอมจาง ๆ เกิดขึ้นในคืนที่พักมาใน ช้าได้เธอที่ warmed ค่าอาหารมื้อเย็น เขาแทบรู้สิ่งที่เขาได้รับประทานความรู้สึกเธออยู่ข้างเขาเพียงอย่างเดียว ในเวลากลางคืน ในบ้านนอนหลับ และมอบช่วงของเธอ ถ้าเป็นตอนกลางคืนหรือเย็น หรือเปียก หรือวินดี้ มีแน่จะ จอกน้อยของหมัดพร้อมสำหรับเขา บางทีพวกเขาอาจจะมีความสุขกัน...พวกเขาใช้ไปชั้นบนกัน บน เขย่ง ด้วยเทียน และสามจอดแลกเปลี่ยนลูก goodnights จะใช้การจูบ เขาจำได้ดีเธอตา สัมผัสด้วยมือของเธอและ delirium ของเขา...แต่ผ่านไป delirium เขาได้พูดย้ำวลีของเธอ ใช้กับตัวเอง: "อะไรฉันจะทำอย่างไร" สัญชาตญาณของการโสดเตือนเขาอุบ แต่บาปก็มี แม้พระสมเกียรติบอกว่า ต้องทำชดใช้บาปดังกล่าวในขณะที่เขานั่งอยู่กับ เธอในด้านของนอนแมรี่มาประตู และกล่าวว่า missus ที่อยากเห็นเขาในห้องนั่งเล่น เขายืนขึ้นสวมเสื้อของเขาและ waistcoat กำพร้ามากขึ้นกว่าเดิม เมื่อแต่งตัว เขาไปมากกว่าเธอมอบความสบายให้เธอ มันจะ ไม่กลัว เขาปล่อยเธอร้องไห้บนเตียงนอนและ moaning เบา ๆ: "โอพระเจ้า"Going down the stairs his glasses became so dimmed with moisture that he had to take them off and polish them. He longed to ascend through the roof and fly away to another country where he would never hear again of his trouble, and yet a force pushed him downstairs step by step. The implacable faces of his employer and of the Madam stared upon his discomfiture. On the last flight of stairs he passed Jack Mooney who was coming up from the pantry nursing two bottles of Bass. They saluted coldly; and the lover's eyes rested for a second or two on a thick bulldog face and a pair of thick short arms. When he reached the foot of the staircase he glanced up and saw Jack regarding him from the door of the return-room.Suddenly he remembered the night when one of the musichall artistes, a little blond Londoner, had made a rather free allusion to Polly. The reunion had been almost broken up on account of Jack's violence. Everyone tried to quiet him. The music-hall artiste, a little paler than usual, kept smiling and saying that there was no harm meant: but Jack kept shouting at him that if any fellow tried that sort of a game on with his sister he'd bloody well put his teeth down his throat, so he would.Polly sat for a little time on the side of the bed, crying. Then she dried her eyes and went over to the looking-glass. She dipped the end of the towel in the water-jug and refreshed her eyes with the cool water. She looked at herself in profile and readjusted a hairpin above her ear. Then she went back to the bed again and sat at the foot. She regarded the pillows for a long time and the sight of them awakened in her mind secret, amiable memories. She rested the nape of her neck against the cool iron bed-rail and fell into a reverie. There was no longer any perturbation visible on her face.She waited on patiently, almost cheerfully, without alarm. her memories gradually giving place to hopes and visions of the future. Her hopes and visions were so intricate that she no longer saw the white pillows on which her gaze was fixed or remembered that she was waiting for anything.At last she heard her mother calling. She started to her feet and ran to the banisters."Polly! Polly!""Yes, mamma?""Come down, dear. Mr. Doran wants to speak to you."Then she remembered what she had been waiting for.
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