His mother understood him profoundly. But she understood him in a
manner sardonic, slightly malicious and even hostile, whereas Nellie
understood him with her absurd love. According to his mother's attitude,
Denry was guilty till he had proved himself innocent. According to
Nellie's, he was always right and always clever in what he did, until he
himself said that he had been wrong and stupid--and not always then.
Nevertheless, his mother was just as ridiculously proud of him as Nellie
was; but she would have perished on the scaffold rather than admit that
Denry differed in any detail from the common run of sons. Mrs Machin had
departed from Machin House without waiting to be asked. It was
characteristic of her that she had returned to Brougham Street and
rented there an out-of-date cottage without a single one of the
labour-saving contrivances that distinguished the residence which her
son had originally built for her.
It was still delicious for Denry to sit down to tea in the dining-room,
that miracle of conveniences, opposite the smile of his wife, which told
him (_a_) that he was wonderful, (_b_) that she was enchanted to be
alive, and (_c_) that he had deserved her particular caressing
attentions and would receive them.
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