If he had truly loved her, she reiterated, he would never have made it
an issue between them. But that was like a man--to insist on his own
desires being made paramount; to blunder on headlong, no matter what
antagonisms he aroused. And he was completely in the wrong, she
reasserted.
She recapitulated it all. Through the winter he had consistently
withdrawn into his shell. For her friends and for most of her
pleasures he had at best exhibited only tolerance. And he had ended by
outraging both them and her, and on top of that demanded that she turn
her back at twenty-four hours' notice, on Granville and all its
associations and follow him into a wilderness that she dreaded. She
had full right to her resentment. As his partner in the chancy
enterprise of marriage were not her feelings and desires entitled to
equal consideration? He had assumed the role of dictator. And she had
revolted. That was all. She was justified.
Eventually she slept. At ten o'clock, heavy-eyed, suffering an
intolerable headache, she rose and dressed.
Beside her plate lay a thick letter addressed in Bill's handwriting.
She drank her coffee and went back to the bedroom before she opened the
envelope.
Pages:
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369