"
"Well, why not?"
"She's too young, Emily. Too ignorant of what life means--and he may
go to France any day. He is getting restless--and he may see things
differently--that his duty to his country transcends any personal
claim--and then what of Jean?--a little wife--alone."
"She could stay with me."
"But marriage, _marriage_, Emily--why in Heaven's name should they be
in such a hurry?"
"Why should they wait, and miss the wonder of it all, as I have missed
it--all the color and glow, the wine of life? Even if he should go to
France, and die, she will bear his beloved name--she will have the
right to weep."
He had never seen her like this--the red was deep in her cheeks, her
voice was shaken, her bosom rose and fell with her agitation.
"Emily, my dear girl--"
"Let them marry, Bruce, can't you see? Can't you see. It is their
day--there may be no tomorrow."
"But there are practical things, Emily. If she should have a child?"
"Why not? It will be his--to love. Only a woman with empty arms knows
what that means, Bruce."
And this was Emily, this rose-red, wet-eyed creature was Emily, whom he
had deemed unemotional, cold, self-contained!
"Men forget, Bruce.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209