After a look at him, they went out and sat on the porch
steps. There, when the trend of their conversation made it
unavoidable, he told her what had overtaken Charlie Mills and Myra
Bland.
Doris listened silently. She sighed.
"What a pity," she murmured. "The uselessness of it, the madness--like
a child destroying his toys in a blind rage. Poor Myra. She told me
once that life seemed to her like swimming among whirlpools. It must
have been true."
How true it was Hollister did not dare reveal. That was finished, for
Myra and himself. She had perished among the whirlpools. He scarcely
knew how he had escaped.
"How lucky we are, you and I, Bob," Doris said after a time. She put
her arms around him impulsively. "We might so easily be wandering
about alone in a world that is terribly harsh to the unfortunate.
Instead--we're here together, and life means something worth while to
us. It does to me, I know. Does it to you?"
"As long as I have you, it does," he answered truthfully. "But if you
could see me as I really am, perhaps I might not have you very long.
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