category:Simulation operation


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    Leaning over the bed for a farewell embrace, Tilly answered her friend’s hoarse whisper with a shake of the head. “But don’t you bother, love. My dear, you’ll see what you do see! I’m no chicken, Mary, nor any mealy-mouthed schoolgirl to lose me chance for want of opening me mouth. But whatever happens, I’ll never forget how you tried to pull it off for me, old girl — never! . . . not so long as I live.”
    There was another point, too: was anybody better fitted than he to live as the gentleman? Where so many floundered like fish out of water, he would be entirely in his element. If ONLY she could have felt surer of him! But thanks to Buddlecombe she knew that, no matter how fixed he seemed, at the first trifling unpleasantness — a hint, for example, that medically he was on the shelf — he would be up and off to prove the contrary; perhaps again, as on the last occasion, not even condescending to tell her where the trouble lay. Oh dear! it WOULD be nice to have a husband who saw things sensibly and practically — as one did oneself. How the two of them could then have put their heads together. Instead of her always having to make allowance for unreckonable impulses.
    “TILLY!” Mary looked up from her sewing — the two women sat on the verandah of Tilly’s house in Ballarat, where Mary was visiting — in reproof and surprise at a speech so unlike her friend. It was not the first either; Tilly often wore a mopy, world-weary air nowadays, which did not sit naturally on her. “Each child that lives is just itself,” added Mary. “That’s why one loves it so.”


    2.Mary was weeping, too; the tears ran down her cheeks. But she made no attempt to palliate or console; did not speak of an accident for which it was impossible to blame yourself; or of God’s will, mysterious, inscrutable: she just grieved, with an intensity of feeling that made her one with the bereft. Things of this kind went too deep for words; were hurts from which there could be no recovery. Time might grow its moss over them . . . hide them from mortal sight . . . that was all.
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