And she had been too little too
steeped in the indulgence of luxurious life too slight-natured and
pale-blooded! And suddenly there pierced into the black storm of Carley's
mind a blazing, white-streaked thought--she had left Glenn to the Western
girl, Flo Hutter. Humiliated, and abased in her own sight, Carley fell prey
to a fury of jealousy.
She went back to the old life. But it was in a bitter, restless, critical
spirit, conscious of the fact that she could derive neither forgetfulness
nor pleasure from it, nor see any release from the habit of years.
One afternoon, late in the fall, she motored out to a Long Island club
where the last of the season's golf was being enjoyed by some of her most
intimate friends. Carley did not play. Aimlessly she walked around the
grounds, finding the autumn colors subdued and drab, like her mind. The air
held a promise of early winter. She thought that she would go South before
the cold came. Always trying to escape anything rigorous, hard, painful, or
disagreeable! Later she returned to the clubhouse to find her party assembled
on an inclosed porch, chatting and partaking of refreshment. Morrison
was there. He had not taken kindly to her late habit of denying herself to
him.
Pages:
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272