'Twas a curious
business. I was younger then than I am now, and perhaps the less said
about it, in one sense, the better."
"Curious business! 'Twas worse than curious. I cannot even allow that
I'm the man you met then. I was not in my senses, and a man's senses are
himself."
"We were young and thoughtless," said Newson. "However, I've come to
mend matters rather than open arguments. Poor Susan--hers was a strange
experience."
"She was a warm-hearted, home-spun woman. She was not what they call
shrewd or sharp at all--better she had been."
"She was not."
"As you in all likelihood know, she was simple-minded enough to think
that the sale was in a way binding. She was as guiltless o' wrong-doing
in that particular as a saint in the clouds."
"I know it, I know it. I found it out directly," said Henchard, still
with averted eyes. "There lay the sting o't to me. If she had seen it as
what it was she would never have left me. Never! But how should she be
expected to know? What advantages had she? None. She could write her own
name, and no more.
"Well, it was not in my heart to undeceive her when the deed was done,"
said the sailor of former days. "I thought, and there was not much
vanity in thinking it, that she would be happier with me. She was fairly
happy, and I never would have undeceived her till the day of her
death.
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