I keep my pose and watch it all. Look, Maud, I think. Here is your future. Here''s all your liberty, unfolding like a bolt of cloth . . .
I wonder if Sue is very much injured. I wonder what kind of place they have her in, now.
Richard tries to see beyond my veil. ''You''re not weeping, are you?'' he says. ''Come on, don''t trouble over it still.''
I say, ''Don''t look at me.''
''Should you rather be back at Briar, with the books? You know you should not. You know you have wanted this. You''ll forget, soon, the manner in which you got it. Believe me, I know these things. You must only be patient. We must both be patient now. We have many weeks to pass together, before the fortune becomes ours. I am sorry I spoke harshly, before. Come, Maud. We shall be at London, soon. Things will seem different to you there, I assure you ..."$$本$$作$$品$$由$$思$$兔$$網$$提$$供$$線$$上$$閱$$讀$$
I do not answer. At last, with a curse, he gives it up. The day is darkening now—or rather, the sky is darkening, as we draw close to the city. There come streaks of soot upon the glass. The landscape is slowly growing meaner. The cottages have begun to be replaced by wooden dwellings, some with broken windows and boards. The gardens are giving way to patches of weed; soon the weed gives way to ditches, the ditches to dark canals, to dreary wastes of road, to mounds of stones or soil or ashes. Still, Even ashes, I think, are a part of your freedom—and I feel, despite myself, the kindling in me of a sort of excitement. But then, the excitement becomes unease. I have always supposed London a place, like a house in a park, with walls: I''ve imagined it rising, straight and clean and solid. I have not