Paley's deafness and the long sad history which Mrs. Elliot had
embarked upon of a wire-haired terrier, white with just one black spot,
belonging to an uncle of hers, which had committed suicide. "Animals do
commit suicide," she sighed, as if she asserted a painful fact.
"Couldn't we explore the town this evening?" Mr. Venning suggested.
"My aunt--" Susan began.
"You deserve a holiday," he said. "You're always doing things for other
people."
"But that's my life," she said, under cover of refilling the teapot.
"That's no one's life," he returned, "no young person's. You'll come?"
"I should like to come," she murmured.
At this moment Mrs. Elliot looked up and exclaimed, "Oh, Hugh! He's
bringing some one," she added.
"He would like some tea," said Mrs. Paley. "Susan, run and get some
cups--there are the two young men."
"We're thirsting for tea," said Mr. Elliot. "You know Mr. Ambrose,
Hilda? We met on the hill."
"He dragged me in," said Ridley, "or I should have been ashamed. I'm
dusty and dirty and disagreeable." He pointed to his boots which were
white with dust, while a dejected flower drooping in his buttonhole,
like an exhausted animal over a gate, added to the effect of length and
untidiness. He was introduced to the others. Mr. Hewet and Mr. Hirst
brought chairs, and tea began again, Susan pouring cascades of water
from pot to pot, always cheerfully, and with the competence of long use.
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