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Howells, William Dean, 1837-1920

"The Rise of Silas Lapham"

What's the
difference between our asking them and their asking us?"
demanded the Colonel sulkily.
"Oh, well! If you don t see!"
"Well, I DON'T see. But I don't want to ask them
to the house. I suppose, if I want to, I can invite
him down to a fish dinner at Taft's."
Mrs. Lapham fell back in her chair, and let her work
drop in her lap with that "Tckk!" in which her sex knows
how to express utter contempt and despair.
"What's the matter?"
"Well, if you DO such a thing, Silas, I'll never speak
to you again! It's no USE! It's NO use! I did think,
after you'd behaved so well about Rogers, I might trust
you a little. But I see I can't. I presume as long as you
live you'll have to be nosed about like a perfect--I don't
know what!"
"What are you making such a fuss about?" demanded Lapham,
terribly crestfallen, but trying to pluck up a spirit.
"I haven't done anything yet. I can't ask your advice
about anything any more without having you fly out.
Confound it! I shall do as I please after this."
But as if he could not endure that contemptuous atmosphere,
he got up, and his wife heard him in the dining-room
pouring himself out a glass of ice-water, and then heard
him mount the stairs to their room, and slam its door
after him.
"Do you know what your father's wanting to do now?"
Mrs.


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