What was
she to do? The worst that she had ever feared had occurred. He was mad.
She went into the drawing-room, where the sun was blazing as though it
would set the carpet on fire. What _was_ she to do? What _ought_
she to do? Should she fetch Puddifoot or some older woman like Mrs.
Combermere, who would be able to advise her? Oh, no. She wanted no one
there who would pity him. She felt a longing, urgent desire to keep him
always with her now, away from the world, in some corner where she could
cherish and love him and allow no one to insult and hurt him. But madness!
To her girlish inexperience this morning's acts could be nothing but
madness. There in the middle of the High Street, with every one about, to
do such a thing! The disgrace of it! Why, now, they could never stay in
Polchester.... This was worse than everything that had gone before. How
they would all talk, Canon Ronder and all of them, and how pleased they
would be!
At that she clenched her hands and drew herself up as though she were
defying the whole of Polchester. They should not laugh at him, they should
not dare!.
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