category:Leisure puzzle


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    “A great spider! . . . that’s what the woman is, if you want my opinion,” cried Mahony angrily. “But what could I do? — Besides, at heart, I’m one with him. There are crises in a man’s life that are best fought through alone.”
    Of the person who bore his name he had naturally heard nothing at the time of buying. Only by degrees did Robinson come within his ken. A surgeon some years his junior, the fellow had originally, it now turned out, held the whole practice of the place for miles round in his hands. Then, three years previously, he had married a rich widow — report credited her with eight to ten thousand a year — bought a fine property and retired. Since then — again according to rumour — he had spent more time than was fitting in the company of the bottle. However that might be, his former wide professional connection, his wife’s money and social standing, combined to make him PERSONA GRATA in all the best houses; while among the townspeople and villagers, slow of wit and opposed to change as only English country-people could be, the memory, or rather the habit of him, had persisted, to the tribulation no doubt of his successors. For there came moments when Mahony mistrusted the throat-weakness alleged by young Philips; or at least wondered whether this was his sole reason for quitting so promising a place after a bare year’s trial. And who had preceded Philips? At first what he, Mahony, had to meet was no more than a casual mention of Robinson’s name. “Mr. Robinson said this, or would have done that”; and, at the outset, he had been simple enough to believe it a slip of the tongue for Philips. He soon learned better. A question put, a scrap of gossip retailed by Mary, taught him that Robinson was still a power in the place. For yet a while, however, he ascribed what was going on to hard-dying custom, which might be overcome. The first time he scented actual danger was when one of two spinsters he was attending complained of her sister’s slow progress, and said she would ask Mr. Robinson to look in, he understanding their constitutions better than any one else.


    2.Mary was weeping, too; the tears ran down her cheeks. But she made no attempt to palliate or console; did not speak of an accident for which it was impossible to blame yourself; or of God’s will, mysterious, inscrutable: she just grieved, with an intensity of feeling that made her one with the bereft. Things of this kind went too deep for words; were hurts from which there could be no recovery. Time might grow its moss over them . . . hide them from mortal sight . . . that was all.
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