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Lawrence, D. H. (David Herbert), 1885-1930

"England, My England"

She assumed she had done
so.
One day, when he sat talking with his 'uncle', he looked straight into
the eyes of the sick man, and said:
'But I shouldn't like to live and die here in Rawsley.'
'No--well--you needn't,' said the sick man.
'Do you think Cousin Matilda likes it?'
'I should think so.'
'I don't call it much of a life,' said the youth. 'How much older is she
than me, Uncle?'
The sick man looked at the young soldier.
'A good bit,' he said.
'Over thirty?' said Hadrian.
'Well, not so much. She's thirty-two.'
Hadrian considered a while.
'She doesn't look it,' he said.
Again the sick father looked at him.
'Do you think she'd like to leave here?' said Hadrian.
'Nay, I don't know,' replied the father, restive.
Hadrian sat still, having his own thoughts. Then in a small, quiet voice,
as if he were speaking from inside himself, he said:
'I'd marry her if you wanted me to.'
The sick man raised his eyes suddenly, and stared. He stared for a long
time. The youth looked inscrutably out of the window.
'_You!_' said the sick man, mocking, with some contempt. Hadrian turned
and met his eyes. The two men had an inexplicable understanding.
'If you wasn't against it,' said Hadrian.
'Nay,' said the father, turning aside, 'I don't think I'm against it.
I've never thought of it. But--But Emmie's the youngest.'
He had flushed, and looked suddenly more alive.


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