"It wasn't anything concrete like that.
It's a feeling, a mood, I suppose. And it's silly for me to say things
like that. If you grow sorry you married me, if you fall in love with
another woman, I'll know it without being told."
She pinched his cheek playfully and lay silent beside him. Hollister
watched the slow shift of the moonbeams across the foot of the bed,
thinking, his mind darting sketchily from incident to incident of the
past, peering curiously into the misty future, until at last he grew
aware by her drooped eyelashes and regular breathing that Doris was
asleep.
He grew drowsy himself. His eyelids grew heavy. Presently he was
asleep also and dreaming of a fantastic struggle in which Myra
Bland--transformed into a vulture-like creature with a fierce beaked
face and enormous strength--tore him relentlessly from the arms of his
wife.
CHAPTER XIII
From day to day and from week to week, apprehending mistily that he
was caught in and carried along by a current--a slow but irresistible
movement of events--Hollister pursued the round of his daily life as
if nothing but a clear and shining road lay before him; as if he had
done for ever with illusions and uncertainties and wild stirrings of
the spirit; as if life spread before him like a sea of which he had a
chart whereon every reef was marked, every shoal buoyed, and in his
hands and brain the instruments and knowledge wherewith to run a true
course.
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