But the airy attitude somehow failed to comfort--it
was a little too much like trying to shuffle a soft-shoe clog on a new
grave. Nancy _had_ been unreasonable. Nancy _had_ said or hadn't denied
that she wasn't sure she loved him any more. He _had_ released her from
the engagement and told her good-by. He stared at the facts--they sprang
up in front of him like choking thorns--thorns he had to clear away with
his hands before he could even touch Nancy again. Was he sure--even now?
All the airiness dropped from him like a clown's false face. As he thought
of what would happen if Nancy had really meant it about not loving him, it
seemed to him that somebody had taken away the pit of his stomach and left
nothing in its place but air.
Anyhow the first thing to do was to get out of this place--he examined the
neat bars in the door approvingly and wondered how the devil you acted
when you wanted to be let out. There wasn't any way of opening a
conversation about it with no one to talk to--and the corridor was merely
a length of empty steel--and, damn it, his train left at Ten Seven and he
had to see Nancy and explain everything in the world before it left--and
if he didn't get back to New York in time he might lose his job.
Pages:
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114