Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1940-07-12
CHAPTER 1s

A few nights after Sara's letter came
they had dinner together and when
they left the restaurant Clay would
have hailed taxi, but March laid a
OBTAINING hand on his arm.
She said, Lets walk awhile, Clay
It isn't cold and l want to talk to you
We can pick up a cab later"
They turned northward on Michigan
Avenue. The night was mild for De-
cember, starless and without much
wind. All the shop windows were
jewel-bright with holiday displays
Ahead the link bridge spanned the
dark mystery of the river. AS they
swung along briskly, March's gloved
hand tucked in the crook of Clay's
arm, her chin snuggled into the up
turned collar of her fur coat, she tried
to find words with which to soften
the starkness of this thing she had to
tell.
But in the end she said simply, her
face averted, Brent wants divorce"
She could feel the abrupt tensing
of Clay's arm under her fingers, but
his voice, after a moments unfath-
ENABLE silence, was carefully controll-
ed. "And you, March? How do you
feel about it,"
How do feel? l feel like clinging
and struggling and taking advantage
of every loophole my position offers.
feel like groveling and pleading.
feel like any woman would who's a
bout to be given her freedom by the
man she loves.
Aloud she said, "Of course, I'll give
him a divorce. There are only the
ways and means to consider" She
was doing it very we'll, really. Her
voice was level, almost calm. 81
thought perhaps you could recommend
a lawyer, tell me what steps to take"
Trust Clay not to say, ~ told you
3d." He had felt from the start that
her marriage to Brent was mistake.
He had warned her. But it hadn't
been mistake, not really. There had
been months of happiness, unforget-
able hours, memories she would cher
ish always, that not even the impend
ing ugliness of divorce could take
from her. If it were all to do over,
she would marry Brent joyously,
snatching once more what happiness
she could. If it were all to do over. q.
Clay was saying, "I'll help in any
way can"
March nodded. She said, with a
sort of ragged composure, I'll be very
grateful"
Silence stretched between them for
awhile, who had so little need of
words for understanding.
Clay said, "You mustn't think this
is the end of things for you. You're
young"
March's voice was brittle, without
body, in the darkness. "I'm twenty
four-and through with love-"
But Clay insisted, "You mustn't
think that, March. For my sake, if
not your own"
His strange urgency penetrated her
self absorption, so that she looked up
wonderingly.
He said, "This isn't the time and
the place, but I'm past caring, my
dear. I've loved you so very long. And
have been patient"
March said uncomfortably, II know,
but"
His words stopped her own. "I'll
go on being patient. I know you've
had bad time. It won't be easy for
you to forget. But somehow, / had
to tell you, remind you, rather. l want
the knowledge of my love to be there,
in the back of your mind, sustaining
you little. perhaps. And later, when
this is all over and time has dulled
the ache of it" his hand pressed
hers briefly, undemandingly, II want
you to be my wife,"
She was so very fond of him, she
had taken so much from him always
and given nothing in return. Pity tore
at her, but honesty forced her to say,
II could give you so little, Clay. So
very little"
"It would be enough. It would be
more than I've ever had, than I ever
hoped to have"
The humility in his tone touched
March. She said piteously, out of the
whirling confusion of her thoughts.
II don't know, Clay. don't know"
Abruptly Clay's tone altered. He
became the Clay she had always
known and had come to depend on.
He said quietly, "Of course, you don't.