If you were me--you--you--you--couldn't help crying too!"
Indeed he was very near it now. For as he caught her in his arms,
suddenly seeing with a lover's sympathy and the poet's swifter
imagination all that she had seen and even more, he was aghast at the
vision conjured. In her delicate health and loneliness how dreadful must
have been these monotonous days, and this glittering, cruel sea! What
a selfish brute he was! Yet as he stood there holding her, silently and
rhythmically marking his tenderness and remorseful feelings by rocking
her from side to side like a languid metronome, she quietly disengaged
her wet lashes from his shoulder and said in quite another tone:--
"So they were all at Tasajara last week?"
"Who, dear?"
"Your father and sisters."
"Yes," said John Milton, hesitatingly.
"And they've taken back your sister after her divorce?"
The staring obtrusiveness of this fact apparently made her husband's
bright sympathetic eye blink as before.
"And if you were to divorce me, YOU would be taken back too," she
added quickly, suddenly withdrawing herself with a pettish movement and
walking to the window.
But he followed. "Don't talk in that way, Loo! Don't look in that way,
dear!" he said, taking her hand gently, yet not without a sense of some
inconsistency in her conduct that jarred upon his own simple directness.
"You know that nothing can part us now.
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