I used to run and
swim and climb hills. I could have gone anywhere with you--done
anything--been as good a mate as any primitive woman. But my wings are
clipped. I can only get about in familiar surroundings. And sometimes
it grows intolerable. I rebel. I rave--and wish I were dead. And if I
thought I was hampering you, and you were beginning to regret you had
married me--why, I couldn't bear it. That's what my brain was buzzing
with last night."
"Do any of those things strike you as serious obstacles now--when I
have my arms around you?" Hollister demanded.
She shook her head.
"No. Really and truly right now I'm perfectly willing to take any sort
of chance on the future--if you're in it," she said thoughtfully.
"That's the sort of effect you have on me. I suppose that's natural
enough."
"Then we feel precisely the same," Hollister declared. "And you are
not to have any more doubts about me. I tell you, Doris, that besides
wanting you, I _need_ you. I can be your eyes. And for me, you will be
like a compass to a sailor in a fog--something to steer a course by.
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