It's been my experience of men that the younger they are the harder they
take things and the more uncompromising they are. It takes a good many
years and some pretty hard knocks to make people tolerant.
"I was looking for you," he said to her. "The bishop has just told me.
There are no obstacles now."
"None," she said, looking up at him with wretchedness in her eyes, if he
had only seen. "I am very happy."
"She was just saying," I said bitterly, "how grateful she was to both of
us."
"I don't understand."
"It is not hard to understand," she said, smiling. I wanted to slap her.
"Father was unreasonable because he was ill. You have made him well. I
can never thank you enough."
But she rather overdid the joy part of it, and he leaned over and looked
in her face.
"I think I'm stupid," he said. "I know I'm unhappy. But isn't that what
I was to do--to make them well if I could?"
"How could anybody know--" she began angrily, and then stopped. "You
have done even more," she said sweetly. "You've turned them into
cherubims and seraphims. Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. Ugh! How
I hate amiability raised to the NTH power!"
He smiled. I think it was getting through his thick man's skull that she
wasn't so happy as she should have been, and he was thrilled through and
through.
"My amiability must be the reason you dislike me!" he suggested. They
had both forgotten me.
"Do I dislike you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "I never really
thought about it, but I'm sure I don't.
Pages:
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225