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operly to the marmalade. His eyes were gloomily downcast. She glanced at him through her eyelashes. Once or twice she struggled with laughter, once or twice she seemed to be indignant.
“I don’t know what to think,” she said at last. “I don’t know what to make of you–brother Chris. I thought, do you know? that you were perfectly honest. And somehow–”
“Well?”
“I think so still.”
“Honest–with all those lies!”
“I wonder.”
“I don’t,” said Mr. Hoopdriver. “I’m fair ashamed of myself. But anyhow–I’ve stopped cheap moncler sale deceiving you.”
“I THOUGHT,” said the Young Lady in Grey, “that story of the lion–”
“Lord!” said Mr. Hoopdriver. “Don’t remind me of THAT.”
“I thought, somehow, I FELT, that the things you said didn’t ring quite true.” She suddenly broke out in laughter, at the expression of his face. “Of COURSE you are honest,” she said. “How could I ever doubt it? As if moncler sale for kids _I_ had never pretended! I see it all now.”
Abruptly she rose, and extended her hand across the breakfast things. He looked at her doubtfully, and saw the dancing friendliness in her eyes. He scarcely understood at first. He rose, holding the marmalade spoon, and took her proffered hand with abject humility. “Lord,” he broke out, “if you aren’t enough–but there!”
“I see it all now.” A brilliant inspiration had suddenly obscured her humour. She sat down suddenly, and he sat down too. “You did it,” she said, “because moncler sell you wanted to help me. And you thought I was too Conventional to take help from one I might think my social inferior.”
“That was partly it,” said Mr. Hoopdriver.
“How you misunderstood me!” she said.
“You don’t mind?”
“It was noble of you. But I am sorry,” she said, “you should think me likely to be ashamed of you because you follow a decent trade.”
“I didn’t know at first, you see,” said Mr. Hoopdriver.
And he submitted meekly to a restoration of his self-respect. He was as useful a citizen as could be,–it was proposed and carried,–and his lying was of the noblest. And so the breakfast concluded much more happily th moncler sale authentic an his brightest expectation, and they rode out of ruddy little Blandford as though no shadow of any sort had come between them.
Chapter 36
As they were sitting by the roadside among the pine trees half-way up a stretch of hill between Wimborne and Ringwood, however, Mr. Hoopdriver reopened the question of his worldly position.
“Ju think,” he began abruptly, removing a meditative cigarette from his mouth, “that a draper’s shopman IS a decent citizen?”
“Why not?”
“When he puts people off with what they don’t quite want, for instance?”
“Need he do that?”
“Salesmanship,” said Hoopdriver. “Wouldn’t get a crib if he didn’t moncler sale .–It’s no good your arguing. It’s not a particularly honest nor a particularly useful trade; it’s not very high up ; there’s no freedom and no leisure–seven to eight-thirty every day in the week; don’t leave much edge to live on, does it?–real workmen laugh at us and educated chaps like bank clerks and solicitors’ clerks look down on us. You look respectable outside, and inside you are packed in dormitories li moncler men sale ke convicts, fed on bread and butter and bullied like slaves. You’re just superior enough to feel that you’re not superior. Without capital there’s no prospects; one draper in a hundred don’t even earn enough to marry on; and if he DOES marry, his G.V. can just use him to black boots if he likes, and he daren’t put his back up. That’s drapery! And you tell me to be contented. Would YOU be contented if you was a shop girl?”
She did not answer. She looked at him with distress in her brown eyes, and he remained gloomily in possession of the field.
Presently he spoke. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, and stopped.
She turned her face, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand. There was a light in her eyes that made the expression of them tender. Mr. Hoopdriver had not looked in her face while he had talked. He had regarded the g http://moncleroutletd.co.uk/ rass, and pointed his remarks with redknuckled hands held open and palms upwards. Now they hung limply over his knees.
“Well?” she said.
“I was thinking it this morning,” said Mr. Hoopdriver.
“Yes?”
“Of course it’s silly.” “Well?”
“It’s like this. I’m twenty-three, about. I had my schooling all right to fifteen, say. Well, that leaves me eight years behind.–Is it too late? I wasn’t so backward. I did algebra, and Latin up to auxiliary verbs, and French genders. I got a k moncler jacket sale ind of grounding.”
“And now you mean, should you go on working?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Hoopdriver. “That’s it. You can’t do much at drapery without capital, you know. But if I could get really educated. I’ve thought sometimes. . .”
“Why not? said the Young Lady in Grey.
Mr. Hoopdriver was surprised to see it in that light. “You think?” he said. “Of course. You moncler sale coats are a Man. You are free–” She warmed. “I wish I were you to have the chance of Moncler Outlet that struggle.”
“Am I Man ENOUGH?” said Mr. Hoopdriver aloud, but addressing himself. “There’s that eight years,” he said to her.
“You can make it up. What you call educated men–They’re not going on. You can catch them. They are quite satisfied. Playing golf, and thinking of clever things to say to women like my stepmother, and dining out. You’re in front of them already in one thing. They think they know everything. You don’t. And they know such little things.”
“Lord!” said Mr. Hoopdriver. “How you encourage a fellow!”
“If I could only help you,” she said, and left an eloquent hiatus. He became pensive again.
“It’s pretty evident you don’t think much of a draper,” he said abruptly.
Another interval. “Hundreds of men,” she said, “have come fr moncler sale om the very lowest ranks of life. There was Burns, a ploughman; and Hugh Miller, a stonemason; and plenty of others. Dods moncler sale womens jackets ley was a footman–”
“But drapers! We’re too sort of shabby genteel to rise. Our coats and cuffs might get crumpled–”
“Wasn’t there a Clarke who wrote theology? He was a draper.”
“There was one started a sewing cotton, the only one I ever heard tell of.”
“Have you ever read ‘Hearts Insurgent’?”
“Never,” said Mr. Hoopdriver. He did not wait for her context, but suddenly broke out with an account of his literary requirements. “The fact is–I’ve read precious little. One don’t get much of a chance, situated as I am. We have a library at business, and I’ve gone through that. Most Besant I’ve read, and a lot of Mrs. Braddon’s and Rider Haggard and Marie Corelli–and, well–a Ouida or so. They’re good storie ralph lauren sale s, of course, and first-class writers, but they didn’t seem to have much to do with me. But there’s heaps of books one hears talked about, I HAVEN’T read.”
“Don’t you read any other books but novels?”
moncler jackets “Scarcely ever. One gets tired after business, and you can’t get the books. I have been to some extension lectures, of co

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