Her
purpose there was to please her aunt as never she'd pleased her until that
time; and for two reasons.
Cora well knew that there was going to come a fearful strain on Mrs.
Dene's goodwill, and was anxious to plan her own life after the crash had
fallen, because she little doubted Mrs. Dene would cast her out. Indeed,
she reckoned on it. But over and beyond that was the time to come, and
Cora had so behaved of late that she meant the old woman should feel the
gap when she was gone. Because a sudden upheaval and parting will oft be
the only adventure to bring a thing home to anybody, and it isn't until
the even, pleasant everyday life comes to an end and a thousand hateful
problems call to be solved, that some people know their luck and realise
their good time was in the present, though they were always waiting for
the good time to come in the future.
And Cora had been giving her aunt a very fine time indeed, which is easy
if anybody makes a god of their food and you happen to be a peerless cook.
She was a heaven-born hand at food, was Cora, and Mrs. Dene, loving her
food next to her hope of salvation, revelled in her niece's kitchen art.
In fact, Cora went from strength to strength in that particular; and a
thousand other things she'd done during the last month to endear herself
to her aunt.
Her craft was to plant in old Sarah Dene's mind the picture of a helpmate
very much out of the common; and she done so, and on the night before
James White came along, Cora's aunt had gone so far as to admit it would
be a dark day for her when the girl was wed and had took her many gifts to
Hartland.
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