And isn't it odd to think that if your wife hadn't been my
husband's mistress, you would probably never have been here at
all?"
That was how I got the news--full in the face, like that. I didn't say
anything and I don't suppose I felt anything, unless maybe it was
with that mysterious and unconscious self that underlies most
people. Perhaps one day when I am unconscious or walking in my
sleep I may go and spit upon poor Edward's grave. It seems about
the most unlikely thing I could do; but there it is. No, I remember
no emotion of any sort, but just the clear feeling that one has from
time to time when one hears that some Mrs So-and-So is au mieux
with a certain gentleman. It made things plainer, suddenly, to my
curiosity. It was as if I thought, at that moment, of a windy
November evening, that, when I came to think it over afterwards,
a dozen unexplained things would fit themselves into place. But I
wasn't thinking things over then. I remember that distinctly. I was
just sitting back, rather stiffly, in a deep arm-chair. That is what I
remember. It was twilight.
Branshaw Manor lies in a little hollow with lawns across it and
pine-woods on the fringe of the dip.
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