“I’ve never been prone to them. But you couldn't. " Not a little perplexed by the mysterious object she had seen, Rachel left the room, and, shortly afterwards returned with the materials of a tolerably good supper;—to wit, a couple of cold fowls, a tongue, the best part of a sirloin of beef, a jar of pickles, and two small dishes of pastry. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. "I'm only a benighted fool; and having said that, I have said everything. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her.
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