Though she despised herself for her weakness,
she did not wish to give up the man who had given her that brief
glimpse of happiness she had dreamed as one dreams an
impossibility. Did not wish? Could not--would not--give him up.
"I belong to him!" she thought with a thrill of ecstasy and of
despair.
"But he'd better be careful!" she grumbled. "If I should begin to
dislike him there'd be no going back." And then it recurred to her
that this would be as great a calamity of loss for her as for him
--and she went at her packing in a better humor. "I'll explain to
him that I yield this once, but--" There she stopped herself with
a laugh. Of what use to explain to him?--him who never listened
to explanations, who did not care a fig why people did as he
wished, but was content that they did. As for warning him about
"next time"--how ridiculous! She could hear his penetrating,
rousing voice saying: "We'll deal with 'next time' when it comes."
CHAPTER XXV
MRS. JOSHUA CRAIG
"We change at Albany," said he when they were on the train, after
a last hour of mad scramble, due in part to her tardiness, in the
main to the atmosphere of hysteric hustle and bustle he created as
a precaution.
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