CHAPTER XXXIII
關燈
小
中
大
eronthatthegirlinthescarlet-collaredblanketcoat,withcheeksreddenedinthesharpAprilairandthefringeofblackhairoverlaughing,slantedeyes,wasValancy.Whenhedidrealiseit,UncleBenjaminwasindignant.WhatbusinesshadValancytolooklike—like—likeayounggirl?Thewayofthetransgressorwashard.Hadtobe.Scripturalandproper.YetValancy’spathcouldn’tbehard.Shewouldn’tlooklikethatifitwere.Therewassomethingwrong.Itwasalmostenoughtomakeamanturnmodernist.
BarneyandValancyclangedontothePort,sothatitwasdarkwhentheywentthroughDeerwoodagain.AtheroldhomeValancy,seizedwithasuddenimpulse,gotout,openedthelittlegateandtiptoedaroundtothesitting-roomwindow.TheresathermotherandCousinSticklesdrearily,grimlyknitting.Bafflingandinhumanasever.IftheyhadlookedtheleastbitlonesomeValancywouldhavegonein.Buttheydidnot.Valancywouldnotdisturbthemforworlds.
