THE FUGITIVE
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An upright, well-groomed, grey-moustached, red-faced man of sixty-seven,
with a keen eye for molehills, and none at all for mountains.
Blessed be the respectable! May they dream of--me! And blessed be all
men of the world! May they perish of a surfeit of--good form!
Besides, I oughtn't to have married if I wasn't going to be happy. You
see, I'm not a bit misunderstood or ill-treated. It's only....
Very likely--the first birds do. But if she drops half-way it's better
than if she'd never flown. Your sister, sir, is trying the wings of her
spirit, out of the old slave market. For women as for men, there's more
than one kind of dishonour, Captain Huntingdon, and worse things than
being dead.
Do you know, Clare, I think it's awful about you! You're too fine, and
not fine enough, to put up with things; you're too sensitive to take
help, and you're not strong enough to do without it. It's simply tragic.
I've often noticed parsons' daughters grow up queer. Get too much
morality and rice puddin'.