The thought of one day living on Slough Farm and being his own
master there, was infinitely pleasant to him. In twenty years, he
sometimes calculated, he would easily double his wealth; he would show
the whole district what farming could bring in. One plan after the other
rose before him--how to go about it, all the things he would do, what
the pastor would say when he published the banns, what the people in his
home district would say when some day he would come along with his own
horse and wagon and it would be noised around that he had six horses in
his stable and ten of the finest cows. To be sure, when he saw Elsie
lolling around lazily there were blots on his calculation. He realized
that she was no housekeeper, and was moreover queer and extravagant. The
last fault she might overcome, he thought, if she had a husband. He
could afford to have servants then; other folks got along without the
wife doing anything, and with such wealth it wouldn't matter much. There
was something the matter with every woman; he'd never heard of any that
was so perfect that one wouldn't wish for anything else. Rich, rich!
That was the thing. And still, when he saw Elsie, his calculations came
to a sudden stop. This fading, languishing, sleepy thing seemed too
unpalatable to him. When she touched him with her clammy hands he
shuddered; he felt as if he must wipe the spot she had touched.
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