We had all the chance in the world. You've developed an
abnormal streak lately. If you'd just break away and come back with
me. You don't know what good medicine those old woods are. Won't you
try it a while?"
"I am not by nature fitted to lead the hermit existence," she returned
sarcastically.
And even while her lips were uttering these various unworthy little
bitternesses she inwardly wondered at her own words. It was not what
she would have said, not at all what she was half minded to say. But a
devil of perverseness spurred her. She was full of protest against
everything.
"I wish we'd had a baby," Bill murmured softly. "You'd be different.
You'd have something to live for besides this frothy, neurotic
existence that has poisoned you against the good, clean, healthy way of
life. I wish we'd had a kiddie. We'd have a fighting chance for
happiness now; something to keep us sane, something outside of our own
ego to influence us."
"Thank God there isn't one!" she muttered.
"Ah, well," Bill sighed, "I guess there is no use. I guess we can't
get together on anything. There doesn't seem to be any give-and-take
between us any longer."
He rose and walked to the door.
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