...
But what is the matter with Jeanne? Poor girl, she has hidden behind a
tree. She does not want to be seen by him; and she is quite right, it
would be paying the boor too great an honour.
* * * * *
Merely to watch Richard eating was--or rather it became--a daily
torture. He handled his knife and fork with the utmost refinement. Yet I
would have given anything if he would have occasionally put his elbows
on the table, or bitten into an unpeeled apple, or smacked his lips....
Imagine Richard smacking his lips!
His manners at table were invariably correct.
I shall never forget the look of tender reproach he once cast upon me
when I tore open a letter with my fingers, instead of waiting until he
had passed me the paper-knife. Probably it got upon his nerves in the
same way that he got upon mine when he contemplated himself in the
looking-glass.
A spot upon the table-cloth annoyed and distracted him. He said nothing,
but all the time he eyed the mark as though it was left from a
murderer's track.
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