"Not you," said Mr. Hoopdriver. He waited until he caught her
eye, then with his native courtesy smiled, raised his cap, and
wished her good evening.
XIX
Then Mr. Hoopdriver returned to the little room with the
lead-framed windows where he had dined, and where the bed was now
comfortably made, sat down on the box under the window, stared at
the moon rising on the shining vicarage roof, and tried to
collect his thoughts. How they whirled at first! It was past ten,
and most of Midhurst was tucked away in bed, some one up the
street was learning the violin, at rare intervals a belated
inhabitant hurried home and woke the echoes, and a corncrake kept
up a busy churning in the vicarage garden. The sky was deep blue,
with a still luminous afterglow along the hlack edge of the hill,
and the white moon overhead, save for a couple of yellow stars,
had the sky to herself.
At first his thoughts were kinetic, of deeds and not
relationships. There was this malefactor, and his victim, and it
had fallen on Mr. Hoopdriver to take a hand in the game. HE was
married. Did she know he was married? Never for a moment did a
thought of evil concerning her cross Hoopdriver's mind. Simple-
minded people see questions of morals so much better than
superior persons--who have read and thought themselves complex to
impotence. He had heard her voice, seen the frank light in her
eyes, and she had been weeping--that sufficed. The rights of the
case he hadn't properly grasped.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98