Page:Delight - de la Roche - 1926.djvu/125

 I've never the same relish for my food any more. It makes me boil to see all those fool town fellows coming here to meals just for the sake of staring at you. You're too good for this place. . . . There's too much danger here for you." He turned his face to hers and whispered against her cheek: "Darling, we could have a little cottage, you and me, if you only would—I'd be so kind, Delight. You'd not need to work half so hard as you do here. When I was a boy I used to keep pigeons—I'd keep you just as safe and gentle as a pigeon."

"I know, Jimmy, and I will. But not yet. I want to be free for a while. I love you but—"

"But what?"

"I want to be just my own."

He saw that her full, curving lips could be stubborn. Once more he resigned himself to be patient.

Charley Bye had had too much to drink though it was only ten in the morning. It did not take much to make the brain behind his white classical forehead flounder like a captive balloon, now soaring in little spurts, now feebly joggling against the earth. He was seated by the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a plate of bread and cheese before him, looking large and solemn while his wife flew hither and thither from bake board to stove, her thin arms white with flour, her lips puckered with anxiety about her projecting tooth.

"Pearl, are you getting them brains ready for the sauce for the calves head?" she asked.

"Ye-es," answered Pearl, her nose curled. "I hate the sight of them."