Tetterby, "as yet."
"Well! I'll tell you the whole truth," pursued his wife,
penitently, "and then perhaps you will. I felt all this, so much,
when I was trudging about in the cold, and when I saw a lot of
other calculating faces and large baskets trudging about, too, that
I began to think whether I mightn't have done better, and been
happier, if - I - hadn't - " the wedding-ring went round again, and
Mrs. Tetterby shook her downcast head as she turned it.
"I see," said her husband quietly; "if you hadn't married at all,
or if you had married somebody else?"
"Yes," sobbed Mrs. Tetterby. "That's really what I thought. Do
you hate me now, 'Dolphus?"
"Why no," said Mr. Tetterby. "I don't find that I do, as yet."
Mrs. Tetterby gave him a thankful kiss, and went on.
"I begin to hope you won't, now, 'Dolphus, though I'm afraid I
haven't told you the worst. I can't think what came over me. I
don't know whether I was ill, or mad, or what I was, but I couldn't
call up anything that seemed to bind us to each other, or to
reconcile me to my fortune. All the pleasures and enjoyments we
had ever had - THEY seemed so poor and insignificant, I hated them.
I could have trodden on them. And I could think of nothing else,
except our being poor, and the number of mouths there were at
home.
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