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Meredith, George, 1828-1909

"Complete Short Works of George Meredith"


'She was shot up suddenly over everybody's head, and suddenly down she
went.' Susan whispered to herself: 'But it was for love!' Possessed by
the rosiness of love, she finished her business, with an attention to
everything needed that was equal to perfect serenity of mind. After which
there was nothing to do, save to sit humped in a chair, cover her face
and count the clock-tickings, that said, Yes--no; do--don't; fly--stay;
fly--fly! It seemed to her she heard a moving. Well she might with that
dreadful heart of hers!
Chloe was asleep, at peace by this time, she thought; and how she envied
Chloe! She might be as happy, if she pleased. Why not? But what kind of
happiness was it? She likened it to that of the corpse underground, and
shrank distastefully.
Susan stood at her glass to have a look at the creature about whom there
was all this disturbance, and she threw up her arms high for a languid,
not unlovely yawn, that closed in blissful shuddering with the sensation
of her lover's arms having wormed round her waist and taken her while she
was defenceless.


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