The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 607 Ch.606 Pebble Beach (Long)

"A truly great family wouldn't let its daughter run around like a pony, Barton. I understand Randolph's expectations of Betty - there are all kinds of expectations, but there is no such thing as 'becoming a lady'."

When Barton hinted in a roundabout way that Roland's behavior was "inappropriate", Roland replied like this.

Just look at Theresa.

The serious lady who usually has a stern face did not stop the happy little pony from having fun.

Obviously, Randolph has realized that his sister will never be able to have an "ordinary" second half of her life like those ladies waiting to get married - no one will marry such a woman. If there is such a woman, Randolph will also doubt whether there is some other conspiracy.

For example, Taylor's dowry.

These days, it's very common to see one or two women going crazy.

Beatrice was not very resistant, and Randolph was afraid that not long after marrying her off, he would hear the bad news that she was 'mad' or 'dead'.

“…Miss, it’s a bit pitiful.”

Barton pursed his salty lips and looked at the girl who returned with a basket full of shells, feeling somewhat sad.

The happier she laughed, the more painful it was for those who were sober.

A sincere but crazy rose cannot be sold at a price of reserved elegance.

And if it weren't for the shameless buying and selling based on price, Barton didn't even know from what perspective to judge the concept of "happiness".

The cargo worker's collapsed waist that can never be straightened up and his lungs that are about to cough into his throat are symbols of "happiness".

The woman surrounded by her surviving children and sagging body is also a symbol of 'happiness'.

Barton believed that Beatrice Taylor should be blessed decently and married to a man from an equally wealthy background in the presence of a pastor.

She embraces the world, is free from labor, and even awakens to love.

This girl who is like a small jug should have an equally rich second half of her life, a stable but not dull life.

Her jaw is chiseled by arrogance and sarcasm, the jewel necklace hanging around her neck is enviably hidden, she endures admiration and jealousy during the day, and at night she is covered in the smell of expensive soap after a bumpy journey.

This is the best and most stable future Patton can think of.

"Unfortunately, she doesn't need anyone's sympathy."

Roland said softly.

Betty is not one of those pale, half-sickly delicate ladies.

She could hold up any long skirt that would make a girl look too thin. She was agile and happy, and her agility and happiness were so great that she couldn't rest.

You can describe it as plump or full of vitality. This rose, which twists its unique dance in the flower bed, makes people almost certain that it has a huge heart that is as strong as an angry bull and keeps pumping blood.

"An extremely attractive woman," Roland took out two cigars and shared them with Barton. "I think only a fool would not appreciate her."

Barton carefully took the cigar and matches and lit them like Roland.

It's just that the way he looks is a little weird.

"Teresa has hinted to me many times what you want to ask." Roland exhaled a puff of white mist, his eyebrows curved.

Patton…

He swore that he was a tough guy and would never gossip like those women about whose dog had given birth or what happened between whose dog and whose girl - he didn't like to talk about others behind their backs, but he couldn't help it at this moment.

Roland's words were like a little rake that tickled one's heart.

It itches, but I can't scratch it.

"The lady likes you very much."

"Maybe I'm a better brother to her than Randolph," Roland shrugged. "I like Betty, too, and I'd rather have such a cute and clever sister."

Barton muttered inwardly as he looked at the girl who was trying to "trick" her brother's index finger into the shell and then desperately pressed it down.

She is not like that towards her brother, Mr. Collins.

……

The evening in Porto is different from that in London.

The pearl on the crown has been shrouded in a layer of faint blue mist for years, the kind of mist that can inspire poets to write poetry when it smells it.

When the lamplighters carry long ladders and light the lamps along the Thames piers one by one, the soft arcs will illuminate the floating and silent ships and the white waves hitting the piers...

And the butts of those homeless people. Soon, the police will be dispatched.

This is not the case on the seafront in Porto Porto.

Shiny.

The pebbles were soaked with water, and a plain-like, unexpectedly long coastline appeared in the orange light of the bell tower in the distance, like a dancer's swaying scale dress. Countless white sparks that failed to burn exploded and extinguished one after another in Roland's eyes.

Then it exploded again.

Extremely Beautiful.

Tourists travel in groups, and from time to time they extend a gentle and friendly smile to friends they pass by, friends they have never met before.

The sound of horse hooves and waves in the distance, the sound of conversations nearby, and the thump of soles of shoes on pebbles.

Roland understood why this place was called a resort.

"If possible, I would like to sleep here for a hundred years."

"I don't think it matters where you are, Roland. You just love sleeping." Randolph was holding a bottle of locally produced, unlabeled whiskey, rolling up his sleeves and holding a cigar.

The sea breeze blew their hair all over the place.

"How was the talk with Mr. Taylor?"

"...What do you think?" Randolph blew out a puff of smoke and kicked the pebbles under his feet as if to vent his anger: "He doesn't even recognize me, Roland. A father who can't recognize his own son, whose memory only stays at the age of 23..."

"Is this fair?"

Roland was surprised to hear the word "fair" from Randolph's mouth.

"…His 'amnesia' is getting worse and worse. The doctor said that he will soon forget more…until…"

Randolph rubbed the corners of his mouth and laughed at himself:
"I don't think it will get to that point. The disease in his stomach will soon kill the old man... You see, he loved to do this when he was young."

Randolph pointed at Bellos Taylor in the distance with the finger holding the cigar.

at this time.

The old man, who even walked unsteadily, was holding his walking stick, facing the silently roaring white waves, and telling Beatrice about his glorious past with his head held high.

Theresa listened quietly and wiped away her tears.

'I have twenty ships! Girl, do you know what that means?'

Betty: 'What?'

Belos: 'It means wealth! Wealth flowing to me! Like the waves of the ocean... By the way, I haven't asked your name yet?'

Betty: 'Betty.'

Bellows: 'Betty? Betty what?'

Betty: 'Betty Taylor.'

Bellows: 'Oh, nice name. It's familiar to me... You look like my wife.'

Betty: 'Who?'

The old man was stuck, and his two light eyebrows formed a deep trace.

'…I think I have a wife, we met here…Do I? I think, no, I don't think I do? What's your name?'

Theresa cried even harder.

"I don't know whether the ceremony was real or fake, and I don't know whether it was my mother's or my father's fault..."

"Is this a punishment?"

Randolph poured the whiskey down his throat, and when Bellows Taylor's 'speech' was interrupted, he fell to his knees, holding his stomach, howling and rolling around, then threw away the bottle and cigar and strode across the bumpy cobblestone beach.

'Don't...don't touch me! What medicine did you give me...Teresa...? What...Teresa? I don't know you! Don't...call my wife! Where is my servant? !'

'Don't touch my cane! It's mine!'

Roland was silent.
-
I miss Yam a little bit.

"I also miss the Su Yue whose body is gone."
-
You should be thankful that you are invisible and never have to worry about whether your teeth will leave your mouth.

(End of this chapter)