category:Simulation operation


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    But while he could dismiss Tilly and her folly with a smile, Purdy’s bovine indifference roused a cold resentment in him. Consciously he had washed his hands of the connection long since. And yet it seemed as if a part of him still looked for gratitude — or at least a show of gratitude — did he exert himself on Purdy’s behalf. Which was absurd. — And anyhow Purdy had never been famous for delicacy of feeling — a graceless, thankless beggar from the start. In his heyday, a certain debonair blitheness had cloaked his shortcomings. Now, time having robbed him of every charm, he stood revealed in all his crudity: obese, loose-mouthed, with an eye grown shifty from overreaching his fellow-men: HOW he plumed himself on his skill as a Jeremy Diddler! Oh, this insufferable exaggeration! — this eternal bragging . . . even while they were waiting in church for the arrival of the bride, he had been unable to refrain. Mary said: “Do have patience. Mark my words, Tilly will knock him into shape.” But Mahony doubted it. Once a boaster, always a boaster! — besides, the fair fat Tilly was too far gone in love to wish to chip and change her chosen. Her face had been oily with bliss as she stood with her groom before the altar, he in a check the squares of which could have been counted from across the road, draped in a watch-chain on which he might have hanged himself; she, puce-clad, in a magenta bonnet topped with roses the size of peonies, which sat crooked over one ear. (Mary, cool and pale in silver grey, looked as though sprung from a different branch of the human race.)
    Tilly burst into a roar. “I should say not, indeed! Why, my dear, I can remember ’im when ‘e was only SO ‘igh,”— and she measured a foot from the ground.


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