She had her children. She
had Talk. Falk! She looked around her, almost expecting him to be at her
side, although she well knew that he had long ago abandoned the Cathedral
services. Ah, it wasn't fair! If only he loved her, if only any one loved
her, any one whom she herself could love. If any one wanted her!
Lawrence was waiting, his back turned to the nave. As the last words of
the "Te Deum" rose into a shout of triumphant confidence he turned and
solemnly, his staff raised, advanced, Archdeacon Brandon behind him. Now,
as always, a little giggle of appreciation ran down the nave as the
Archdeacon marched forward to the Lectern. The tourists whispered and
asked one another who thai fine-looking man was. They craned their necks
into the aisle. And he _did_ look fine, his head up, his shoulders
back, his grave dignity graciously at their service. At their service and
God's.
The sight of her husband inflamed Mrs. Brandon. She stared at him as
though she were seeing him for the first time, but in reality she was not
seeing him as he was now, but rather as he had been that morning bending
over her bed in his shirt and trousers.
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