"
"Moralists and social investigators would call you a bad girl," he told
her; "but I agree with you; get your pretty hats and suits, and smart
shoes, as long as you are able. You're not a bit better in a kitchen
than you are here, taking dictation from me; and I am not sure you
would be more valuable at home with a child or two. You are a very
unusual stenographer, rapid and accurate, and you have a good mind in
addition to your figure. Why should you lose all that at once, give it
up, for the accidents of cholera infantum and a man, as likely as not,
with a consumptive lung?"
"But what about love, Mr. Randon? That's what throws me off. Some say
it's the only thing in life."
"I'm damned if I know," he admitted, leaning back from his wide flat-
topped desk. "I hear the same thing, and I am rather inclined to
believe it. But I have an idea that it is very different from what most
people insist; I don't think it is very useful around the house; it has
more to do with the pretty hat than with a dishpan. If you fall in love
go after the thing itself, then; don't hesitate about tomorrow or
yesterday; and, above all else, don't ask yourself if it will last;
that's immaterial."
"You make it sound wild enough," she commented, rising.
"The wilder the better," he insisted; "if it is not delirious it's
nothing."
The road and countryside over which he returned in the motor sedan,
partly frozen, were streaked by rills of muddy surface water; the sky,
which appeared definitely to rest on the surrounding hills, was grey
with a faint suffusion of yellow at the western horizon.
Pages:
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99