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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Will Warburton"

Would she
still be anxious for his company in search of the picturesque? He
could not feel sure--curiosity urged him to try the experiment,
but an obscure apprehension closed his lips.
"How very hard for you!" sighed Rosamund. "But don't think," she
added quickly, "that I have a weak dread of poverty. Not at all! So
long as one can support oneself. Nowadays, when every one strives
and battles for money, there's a distinction in doing without it."
Five minutes more, and they were in Oakley Crescent. Rosamund paused
before reaching the house in which she dwelt, took the camp-stool
from her companion, and offered her hand for good-bye. Only then did
Warburton become aware that he had said nothing since that remark of
hers about poverty; he had walked in a dream.


CHAPTER 32


August came, and Strangwyn, the great whisky distiller, was yet
alive. For very shame, Will kept his thoughts from that direction.
The gloomy mood had again crept upon him, in spite of all his
reasons for hope; his sleep became mere nightmare, and his day
behind the counter a bilious misery.
Since the occasion last recorded, Bertha Cross had not been to the
shop. One day, the order was brought by a servant; a week later,
Mrs. Cross herself appeared. The querulous lady wore a countenance
so nearly cheerful that Warburton regarded her uneasily. She had
come to purchase tea, and remarked that it was for use during a
seaside holiday; you could never depend on the tea at seaside
places.


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