It is the
least bit in the world tedious, and by the sarcastic has been likened to
a cemetery. And it seemed to symbolize Annie's life for her, in its
cramped and pruned and smoky regularity. She began to look upon the Five
Towns as a sort of prison from which she could never, never escape.
I say she was extraordinarily happy; and yet she was unhappy too. In a
word, she resembled all the rest of us--she had "somehow expected
something different" from what life actually gave her. She was
astonished that her William Henry seemed to be so content with things as
they were. Far, now, from any apprehension of his extravagance, she
wished secretly that he would be a little more dashing. He did not seem
to feel the truth that, though prudence is all very well, you can only
live your life once, and that when you are dead you are dead. He did not
seem to understand the value of pleasure. Few people in the Five Towns
did seem to understand the value of pleasure. He had no distractions
except his pipe. Existence was a harsh and industrious struggle, a
series of undisturbed daily habits. No change, no gaiety, no freak!
Grim, changeless monotony!
And once, in July, William Henry abandoned even his pipe for ten days.
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