Yet he resented that,
as he had resented her sorrowful jest. The feeling of unmanliness
in his own position tortured him into a mood of perversity.
Through the day he wrote only a few lines, and on Amy's return he
resolved not to speak to her. There was a sense of repose in this
change of attitude; he encouraged himself in the view that Amy
was treating him with cruel neglect. She, surprised that her
friendly questions elicited no answer, looked into his face and
saw a sullen anger of which hitherto Reardon had never seemed
capable. Her indignation took fire, and she left him to himself.
For a day or two he persevered in his muteness, uttering a word
only when it could not be avoided. Amy was at first so resentful
that she contemplated leaving him to his ill-temper and dwelling
at her mother's house until he chose to recall her. But his face
grew so haggard in fixed misery that compassion at length
prevailed over her injured pride. Late in the evening she went to
the study, and found him sitting unoccupied.
'Edwin--'
'What do you want?' he asked indifferently.
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