He remembered that trait of hers. He had
often teased her about it in those days when it had been an impossible
conception that she could ever regard seriously any man but himself.
Men had always been sure of a very complete survey when they came
within Myra's range, and men had always fluttered about her like moths
drawn to a candle flame. She had that mysterious quality of attracting
men, pleasing them--and of making other girls hate her in the same
degree. She used to laugh about that.
"I can't help it if I'm popular," she used to say, with a mischievous
smile, and Hollister had fondly agreed with that. He remembered that
it flattered his vanity to have other men admire his wife. He had been
so sure of her affections, her loyalty, but that had passed like
melting snow, like dew under the morning sun. A little loneliness, a
few months of separation, had done the trick.
Hollister shrugged his shoulders. He had no feeling in the matter. She
could not possibly know him; she would not wish to know him if she
could. His problems were nowise related to her.
Pages:
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176