She had thrown him over.
Never now would she sit at his table, the brightest jewel of
Detroit's glittering social life. She would have made a stir in
Detroit. Now that city would never know her. Not that he was
worrying much about Detroit. He was worrying about himself. How
could he ever live without her?
This mood of black depression endured for a while, and then Mr
Pickering suddenly became aware that Subconscious Self was
sneering at him. 'You're a wonder!' said Subconscious Self.
'What do you mean?'
'Why, trying to make yourself think that at the bottom of your
heart you aren't tickled to death that this has happened. You know
perfectly well that you're tremendously relieved that you haven't
got to marry the girl after all. You can fool everybody else, but
you can't fool me. You're delighted, man, delighted!' The mere
suggestion revolted Mr Pickering. He was on the point of indignant
denial, when quite abruptly there came home to him the suspicion
that the statement was not so preposterous after all. It seemed
incredible and indecent that such a thing should be, but he could
not deny, now that it was put to him point-blank in this way, that
a certain sense of relief was beginning to mingle itself with his
gloom. It was shocking to realize, but--yes, he actually was
feeling as if he had escaped from something which he had dreaded.
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