In her life no one had ever "known"--not indeed
that she could or would complain of such a trifle, but the fact
remained. And at this moment, oddly, she thought of her husband, and
wondered what he was doing, and felt sorry for him.
But Mr. Paramor went back to his seat and stared at what he had written
on his blotting paper. It ran thus:
"We stand on our petty rights here,
And our potty dignity there;
We make no allowance for others,
They make no allowance for us;
We catch hold of them by the ear,
They grab hold of us by the hair
The result is a bit of a muddle
That ends in a bit of a fuss."
He saw that it neither rhymed nor scanned, and with a grave face he tore
it up.
Again Mrs. Pendyce told her cabman to drive slowly, and again he drove
her faster than usual; yet that drive to Chelsea seemed to last for
ever, and interminable were the turnings which the cabman took, each one
shorter than the last, as if he had resolved to see how much his horse's
mouth could bear.
'Poor thing!' thought Mrs. Pendyce; 'its mouth must be so sore, and it's
quite unnecessary.' She put her hand up through the trap. "Please take
me in a straight line. I don't like corners."
The cabman obeyed. It worried him terribly to take one corner instead of
the six he had purposed on his way; and when she asked him his fare,
he charged her a shilling extra for the distance he had saved by going
straight.
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