I will do anything you say--but that!
I will ask the least imaginable,
but I must have SOMETHING!"
Bartley turned away and sank down in his chair again.
Hilda sat on the arm of it and put her hands lightly
on his shoulders.
"Just something Bartley. I must have you to think of
through the months and months of loneliness.
I must see you. I must know about you.
The sight of you, Bartley, to see you living
and happy and successful--can I never
make you understand what that means to me?"
She pressed his shoulders gently.
"You see, loving some one as I love you
makes the whole world different.
If I'd met you later, if I hadn't loved you so well--
but that's all over, long ago. Then came all
those years without you, lonely and hurt
and discouraged; those decent young fellows
and poor Mac, and me never heeding--hard as
a steel spring. And then you came back, not
caring very much, but it made no difference."
She slid to the floor beside him, as if she
were too tired to sit up any longer. Bartley
bent over and took her in his arms, kissing
her mouth and her wet, tired eyes.
"Don't cry, don't cry," he whispered.
"We've tortured each other enough for tonight.
Forget everything except that I am here."
"I think I have forgotten everything but
that already," she murmured. "Ah, your dear arms!"
CHAPTER VII
During the fortnight that Alexander was
in London he drove himself hard. He got
through a great deal of personal business
and saw a great many men who were doing
interesting things in his own profession.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77