Earles waiting. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. If we do not begin—” She had come to a resolution. He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion.
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