"No, that's true.But if you were married it wouldn't make any difference to Morrison."Carley could not detect bitterness or jealousy in his voice.She would not have been averse to hearing either.She gathered from his remark, however, that he was going to be harder than ever to understand.What had she said or done to make him retreat within himself, aloof, impersonal, unfamiliar?
He did not impress her as loverlike.What irony of fate was this that held her there yearning for his kisses and caresses as never before, while he watched the fire, and talked as to a mere acquaintance, and seemed sad and far away? Or did she merely imagine that? Only one thing could she be sure of at that moment, and it was that pride would never be her ally.
"Glenn, look here," she said, sliding her chair close to his and holding out tier left hand, slim and white, with its glittering diamond on the third finger.
He took her hand in his and pressed it, and smiled at her."Yes, Carley, it's a beautiful, soft little hand.But I think I'd like it better if it were strong and brown, and coarse on the inside--from useful work.""Like Flo Hutter's?" queried Carley.
"Yes."
Carley looked proudly into his eyes."People are born in different stations.I respect your little Western friend, Glenn, but could I wash and sweep, milk cows and chop wood, and all that sort of thing?""I suppose you couldn't," he admitted, with a blunt little laugh.
"Would you want me to?" she asked.
"Well, that's hard to say," he replied, knitting his brows."I hardly know.
I think it depends on you....But if you did do such work wouldn't you be happier?""Happier! Why Glenn, I'd be miserable!...But listen.It wasn't my beautiful and useless hand I wanted you to see.It was my engagement ring.""Oh!--Well?" he went on, slowly.
"I've never had it off since you left New York," she said, softly."You gave it to me four years ago.Do you remember? It was on my twenty-second birthday.You said it would take two months' salary to pay the bill.""It sure did," he retorted, with a hint of humor.
"Glenn, during the war it was not so--so very hard to wear this ring as an engagement ring should be worn," said Carley, growing more earnest."But after the war--especially after your departure West it was terribly hard to be true to the significance of this betrothal ring.There was a let-down in all women.Oh, no one need tell me! There was.And men were affected by that and the chaotic condition of the times.New York was wild during the year of your absence.Prohibition was a joke.--Well, I gadded, danced, dressed, drank, smoked, motored, just the same as the other women in our crowd.Something drove me to.I never rested.Excitement seemed to be happiness--Glenn, I am not making any plea to excuse all that.But I want you to know--how under trying circumstances--I was absolutely true to you.
Understand me.I mean true as regards love.Through it all I loved you just the same.And now I'm with you, it seems, oh, so much more!...Your last letter hurt me.I don't know just how.But I came West to see you--to tell you this--and to ask you....Do you want this ring back?""Certainly not," he replied, forcibly, with a dark flush spreading over his face.
"Then--you love me?" she whispered.
"Yes--I love you," he returned, deliberately."And in spite of all you say--very probably more than you love me....But you, like all women, make love and its expression the sole object of life.Carley, I have been concerned with keeping my body from the grave and my soul from hell.""But--clear--you're well now?" she returned, with trembling lips.
"Yes, I've almost pulled out."
"Then what is wrong?"
