cw.imarriedadeadman-第18部分

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　〃He　signed　it；〃　he　said。　〃After　you　went　up。　Winthrop　took　it　back　with　him。　Withessed　and　all。　It's　done　now；　whether　you　wanted　it　or　not。〃
　She　didn't　answer。　The　battle　had　been　lost；　downstairs；　before；　and　this　was　just　the　final　muniqué。
　He　was　looking　at　her　in　a　way　she　couldn't　identify。　It　seemed　to　have　equal　parts　of　shrewd　appraisal　and　blank　inprehension　in　it；　and　there　was　just　a　dash　of　admiration　added。
　〃You　know；〃　he　said；　〃I　don't　know　why　you　acted　like　that　about　it。　And　I　don't　agree　with　you；　I　think　you　were　wrong　in　acting　like　that　about　it〃　He　lowered　his　voice　a　little　in　confidence。　〃But　somehow　or　other　I'm　glad　you　acted　like　that　about　it。　I　like　you　better　for　acting　like　that　about　it。〃　He　shoved　his　hand　out　to　her　suddenly。　〃Want　to　shake　goodnight？〃
　
　
　23
　
　She　was　alone　in　the　house。　That　is；　alone　just　with　Hughie；　in　his　crib　upstairs；　and　Aunt　Josie；　in　her　room　all　the　way　at　the　back。　They'd　gone　out　to　visit　the　Michaelsons；　old　friends。
　It　was　nice　to　be　alone　in　the　house　once　in　awhile。　Not　too　often；　not　all　the　time；　that　would　have　run　over　into　loneliness。　And　she'd　known　what　that　was　once；　only　too　well；　and　didn't　want　to　ever　again。
　But　it　was　nice　to　be　alone　like　this；　alone　without　loneliness；　just　for　an　hour　or　two；　just　from　nine　until　eleven；　with　the　sure　knowledge　that　they　were　ing　back　soon。　With　the　whole　house　her　own　to　roam　about　in；　upstairs；　down；　into　this　room；　into　that。　Not　that　she　couldn't　at　other　times…but　this　had　a　special　feeling　to　it；　doing　it　when　no　one　else　was　about。　It　did　something　to　her。　It　nourished　her　feeling　of　belonging；　replenished　it。
　They'd　asked　her　if　she　didn't　want　to　e　with　them；　but　she'd　begged　off。　Perhaps　because　she　knew　that　if　she　stayed　home　alone　she'd　get　this　very　feeling　from　it。
　They　didn't　importune　her。　They　never　importuned；　never　repeated　any　invitation　to　the　point　of　weariness。　They　respected　you　as　an　individual；　she　reflected；　that　was　one　of　the　nice　things　about　them。　Only　one　of　the　nice；　there　were　so　many　others。
　〃Then　next　time；　maybe；〃　Mother　had　smiled　in　parting；　from　the　door。
　〃Next　time　without　fail；〃　she　promised。　〃They're　very　nice　people。〃
　She　roamed　about　for　awhile　first；　getting　her　〃feel〃　of　the　place；　saturating　herself　in　that　blessed　sensation　of　〃belonging。〃　Touching　a　chair…back　here；　fingering　the　texture　of　a　window…drape　there。
　Mine。　My　house。　My　parents'　house　and　mine。　Mine。　Mine。　My　home。　My　chair。　My　window…drape。　No；　hang　back　like　that；　that's　the　way　I　want　you　to。
　Silly？　Childish？　Fanciful？　No　doubt　But　who　is　without　childishness；　fancies？　What　is　life　without　them？　Or；　is　there　life　without　them？
　She　went　into　Aunt　Josie's　pantry；　took　the　lid　off　the　cookie…jar；　took　one　out；　took　a　big　bite　out　of　it。
　She　wasn't　hungry。　They'd　all　finished　a　big　dinner　only　a　couple　of　hours　ago。　But…
　My　house。　I　can　do　this。　I'm　entitled　to　them。　They're　waiting　there　for　me；　to　help　myself　whenever　I　feel　like　it。
　She　put　the　lid　on　the　jar；　started　to　put　the　light　out。
　She　changed　her　mind　suddenly；　went　back；　took　out　a　second　one。
　My　house。　I　can　even　take　two　if　I　want　to。　Well；　I　will　take　two。
　And　one　in　each　hand；　each　with　a　big　defiant　bite　taken　out　of　it；　she　came　out　of　there。　They　weren't　food　for　the　mouth；　actually；　they　were　food　for　the　soul。
　The　last　crumbs　brushed　off　her　fingers；　she　decided　to　read　a　book　finally。　Utter　repose　had　e　to　her　now；　a　sense　of　peace　and　wellbeing　that　was　almost　therapeutic　in　its　depth。　It　was　a　sensation　of　healing；　of　being　one；　being　whole　again。　As　though　the　last　vestiges　of　an　old　ache；　from　an　old　split　in　her　personality　（as　indeed　there　was　one　in　the　fullest　sense）；　had　been　effaced。　A　psychiatrist　could　have　written　a　learned　paper　on　this；　that　just　roaming　about　a　house；　in　utter　security；　in　utter　relaxation；　for　half　an　hour　or　so；　could　achieve　such　a　result　for　her；　beyond　all　capacity　of　coldblooded　science；　in　the　clinic；　to　have　done　likewise。　But；　human　beings　are　human　beings；　and　science　isn't　what　they　need；　it's　a　home；　a　house　of　their　own；　that　no　one　can　take　away　from　them。
　It　was　the　right　time；　almost　the　only　time；　for　reading　a　book。　You　could　give　it　your　full　attention；　you　could　lose　yourself　in　it。　You　bee　one　with　it　for　awhile；　selfless。
　In　the　library；　it　took　her　some　time　to　make　a　definitive　selection。　She　did　a　considerable　amount　of　leaf…fluttering　along　the　shelves；　made　two　false　starts　back　to　the　chair　for　an　opening　paragraph　or　two；　before　she'd　finally　settled　on　something　that　gave　an　indication　of　suiting　her。
　Marie　Antoinette；　by　Katharine　Anthony。
　She'd　never　cared　much　for　fiction；　somehow。　Something　about　it　made　her　slightly　unfortable；　perhaps　a　reminder　of　the　drama　in　her　own　life。　She　liked　things　（her　mind　expressed　it）　that　had　really　happened。　Really　happened；　but　long　ago　and　far　away；　to　someone　entirely　else；　someone　that　never　could　be　confused　with　herself。　In　the　case　of　a　fictional　character；　you　soon；　involuntarily；　began　identifying　yourself　with　him　or　her。　In　the　case　of　a　character　who　had　once　been　an　actual　living　personage；　you　did　not　You　sympathized　objectively；　but　it　ended　there。　It　was　always；　from　first　to　last；　someone　else。　Because　it　had　once；　in　reality；　been　someone　else。　（Escape；　they　would　have　called　this；　though　in　her　case　it　was　the　reverse　of　what　it　was　for　others。　They　escaped　from　humdrum　reality　into　fictional　drama。　She　escaped　from　too　much　personal　drama　into　a　reality　of　the　past。）
　For　an　hour；　maybe　more；　she　was　one　with　a　woman　dead　a　hundred　and　fifty　years；　she　lost　track　of　time。
　Dimly；　with　only　a　marginal　part　of　her　faculties；　she　heard　brakes　go　on　somewhere　outside　in　the　quiet　night。
　〃。　。　。　Axel　Fersen　drove　swiftly　through　the　dark　streets。〃　（They're　back。　I'll　finish　this　chapter　first。）　〃An　hour　and　a　half　later；　the　coach　passed　through　the　gate　of　Saint…Martin。　。　。〃
　A　key　turned　in　the　front　door。　It　opened；　then　it　closed。　But　no　murmur　of　homeing　voices　eddied　in。　Vocal　silence；　if　not　the　total　kind。　Firm；　energetic　footsteps；　a　single　pair；　struck　across　the　preliminary　gap　of　bare　flooring　adjacent　to　the　door；　then　blurred　off　along　the　ball　carpeting。
　〃。　。　。　A　little　way　beyond；　they　saw　a　large　travelling…carriage　drawn　up　at　the　side　of　the　road。〃　（No；　that's　Bill；　not　they。　He's　the　one　just　came　in。　I　forgot；　they　didn't　take　the　car　with　them；　the　Michaelsons　live　just　around　the　corner）　〃a　large　travelling…carriage　drawn　up　at　the　side　of　the　road　。　。　。〃
　The　tread　went　to　the　back。　Aunt　Josie　's　pantry…light　flashed　on　again。　She　couldn't　have　seen　it　from　where　she　was；　but　she　knew　it　by　the　click　of　its　switch。　She　knew　all　the　lights　by　the　clicks　of　their　switches。　The　direction　from　which　the　click　came；　and　its　sharpness　or　faintness　of　tone。　You　can　learn　those　things　about　a　house。
　She　heard　water　surge　from　a　tap；　and　then　an　emptied　glass　go　down。　Then　the　lid　of　the　cookie…jar　went　down；　with　its　heavy；　hollowed；　ringing；　porcelain　thud。　It　stayed　down　for　some　time；　too；　was　in　no　hurry　to　go　back　on　again。
　〃。　。　。　drawn　up　at　the　side　of　the　road。〃　（Aunt　Josie'll　have　a　fit　She　always　scolds　him。　She　never　scolds　me；　for　doing　the　very　same　thing。　I　guess　she　used　to　when　he　was　a　boy；　and　can't　get　over　the　habit）　〃The　pseudo　Madame　Korff　and　her　party　entered　the　carriage。　。　。〃
　The　lid　went　back　on　again　at　long　last。　The　footsteps　started　forward　again；　emerged　into　the　back　of　the　hall。　They　stopped　short；　backed　up　a　step；　the　floor　creaked　slightly　with　doubled　weight　in　one　place。
　〃。　。　。〃　（He　dropped　a　chunk　on　the　floor；　stopped　to　pick　it　up。　Doesn't　want　her　to　see　it　lying　there　in　the　morning；　and　know　what　he's　been　up　to。　I　bet　he's　still　afraid　of　Aunt　Josie　in　his　heart；　in　a　little…boy　way。）　〃　。　。　。〃
　But　her　thoughts　were　not　consciously　of　him　or　on　him。　They　were　on　her　book。　It　was　the　perimeter　of　her　mind；　the　unused　residue；　that　kept　up　a　running　mentary　to　itself；　and　which　the　center　of　her　attention　paid　no　heed　to。
　He　subsided　for　awhile；