Travers' hair. Mr. Travers evaded the direct question which struck him
as lacking fineness even to the point of impropriety.
"I must suppose that I was not in the calm possession of my insight and
judgment in those days," he said. "I--I was not in a critical state of
mind at the time," he admitted further; but even after going so far
he did not look up at his wife and therefore missed something like
the ghost of a smile on Mrs. Travers' lips. That smile was tinged with
scepticism which was too deep-seated for anything but the faintest
expression. Therefore she said nothing, and Mr. Travers went on as if
thinking aloud:
"Your conduct was, of course, above reproach; but you made for yourself
a detestable reputation of mental superiority, expressed ironically. You
inspired mistrust in the best people. You were never popular."
"I was bored," murmured Mrs. Travers in a reminiscent tone and with her
chin resting in the hollow of her hand.
Mr. Travers got up from the seaman's chest as unexpectedly as if he had
been stung by a wasp, but, of course, with a much slower and more solemn
motion.
"The matter with you, Edith, is that at heart you are perfectly
primitive." Mrs. Travers stood up, too, with a supple, leisurely
movement, and raising her hands to her hair turned half away with a
pensive remark:
"Imperfectly civilized.
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