And Mary
Josephine planned and dreamed with him.
In a week they lived what might have been encompassed in a year. So it
seemed to Keith, who had known her only so long. With Mary Josephine
the view-point was different. There had been a long separation, a
separation filled with a heartbreak which she would never forget, but
it had not served to weaken the bonds between her and this loved one,
who, she thought, had always been her own. To her their comradeship was
more complete now than it ever had been, even back in the old days, for
they were alone in a land that was strange to her, and one was all that
the world held for the other. So her possessorship of Keith was a thing
which--again in the dark and brooding hours of night--sometimes made
him writhe in an agony of shame. Hers was a shameless love, a love
which had not even the lover's reason for embarrassment, a love
unreserved and open as the day. It was her trick, nights, to nestle
herself in the big armchair with him, and it was her fun to smother his
face in her hair and tumble it about him, piling it over his mouth and
nose until she made him plead for air. Again she would fit herself
comfortably in the hollow of his arm and sit the evening out with her
head on his shoulder, while they planned their future, and twice in
that week she fell asleep there.
Pages:
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197