veonhumbly,tryingnottofeel,endeavouringbyacheerfuldemeanourtoputthingsright.“Perhaps,”shethought,“ifIhaveachildhewillbedifferent.Iknowhewantsason.”
Liliahadachievedpathosdespiteherself,fortherearesomesituationsinwhichvulgaritycountsnolonger.NotCordelianorImogenmoredeservesourtears.
Sheherselfcriedfrequently,makingherselflookplainandold,whichdistressedherhusband.Hewasparticularlykindtoherwhenhehardlyeversawher,andsheacceptedhiskindnesswithoutresentment,evenwithgratitude,sodocilehadshebecome.Shedidnothatehim,evenasshehadneverlovedhimwithheritwasonlywhenshewasexcitedthatthesemblanceofeitherpassionarose.Peoplesaidshewasheadstrong,butreallyherweakbrainlefthercold.
Suffering,however,ismoreindependentoftemperament,andthewisestofwomencouldhardlyhavesufferedmore.
AsforGino,hewasquiteasboyishasever,andcarriedhisiniquitieslikeafeather.Afavouritespeechofhiswas,“Ah,oneoughttomarry!SpiridioneiswrongImustpersuadehim.Nottillmarriagedoesonerealizethepleasuresandthepossibilitiesoflife.”Sosaying,hewouldtakedownhisfelthat,strikeitintherightplaceasinfalliblyasaGermanstrikeshisinthewrongplace,andleaveher.
Oneevening,whenhehadgoneoutthus,Liliacouldstanditnolonger.ItwasSeptember.Sawstonwouldbejustfillingupafterthesummerholidays.Peoplewouldberunninginandoutofeachother’shousesallalongtheroad.Therewerebicyclegymkhanas,andonthe30thMrs.HerritonwouldbeholdingtheannualbazaarinhergardenfortheC.M.S.Itseemedimpossiblethatsuchafree,happylifecouldexist.Shewalkedoutontotheloggia.Moonlightandstarsinasoftpurplesky.ThewallsofMonterianoshouldbegloriousonsuchanightasthis.Butthehousefacedawayfromthem.
Perfettawasbanginginthekitchen,andthestairsdownledpastthekitchendoor.Butthestairsuptotheattic—thestairsnooneeverused—openedoutoftheliving-room,andbyunlockingthedooratthetoponemightslipouttothesquareterraceabovethehouse,andthusfortenminuteswalkinfreedomandpeace.
Thekeywas