Were men intended, then, to congregate in few
places, to squabble and to bicker and breed the discontents that led to
injustice, hatred, and war? What a mystery it all was! But Nature was
neither false nor little, however cruel she might be.
Once again Carley fell under the fury of her ordeal. Wavering now,
restless and sleepless, given to violent starts and slow spells of apathy,
she was wearing to defeat.
That spring day, one year from the day she had left New York for Arizona,
she wished to spend alone. But her thoughts grew unbearable. She summed up
the endless year. Could she live another like it? Something must break
within her.
She went out. The air was warm and balmy, carrying that subtle current
which caused the mild madness of spring fever. In the Park the greening of
the grass, the opening of buds, the singing of birds, the gladness of
children, the light on the water, the warm sun--all seemed to reproach her.
Carley fled from the Park to the home of Beatrice Lovell; and there,
unhappily, she encountered those of her acquaintance with whom she had
least patience. They forced her to think too keenly of herself. They
appeared carefree while she was miserable.
Over teacups there were waging gossip and argument and criticism.
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