George had better take care what
he's about. I can't imagine what we're coming to!"
On Margery Pendyce's hearing, those words, "I can't imagine what we're
coming to," had fallen for four-and-thirty years, in every sort of
connection, from many persons. It had become part of her life, indeed,
to take it for granted that people could imagine nothing; just as the
solid food and solid comfort of Worsted Skeynes and the misty mornings
and the rain had become part of her life. And it was only the fact that
her nerves were on edge and her heart bursting that made those words
seem intolerable that morning; but habit was even now too strong, and
she kept silence.
The General, to whom an answer was of no great moment, pursued his
thoughts.
"And you mark my words, Margery; the elections will go against us. The
country's in a dangerous state."
Mrs. Pendyce said:
"Oh, do you think the Liberals will really get in?"
From custom there was a shade of anxiety in her voice which she did not
feel.
"Think?" repeated General Pendyce. "I pray every night to God they
won't!"
Folding both hands on the silver knob of his Malacca cane, he stared
over them at the opposing wall; and there was something universal in
that fixed stare, a sort of blank and not quite selfish apprehension.
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