The things we do!

But
some way, we hurt each other, don't we? Look at you, there,
suffering. My fault. And I'd rather it had cost me a limb than to
see you hurt that way. It cuts my heart. I can't rest over it.
And you hurt me, too, I reckon, about as bad as anything can.
Maybe you hurt me more than you know. But as to our rights to
anything back of the curtain that's before us, before your life and
mine, why, I can't begin until something else has begun. It's not
right, unless that other is right, that I've told you. We belong
together in the one big way, first. That's the premise. That's
the one great thing. What difference about the rest, future or
past?"
"You've not been much among women," she said.
"Very little."
"You don't understand them."
"I don't reckon anybody does."
"Jeanne told me that she heard, last night, a child crying, here in
this house."
"Could it not have been a negro child?" He smiled at her, even as
he stood under inquisition.
She noticed that his face now seemed pale.


Pages:
179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203