Page:Hare and Tortoise (1925).pdf/143



The ruse by no means succeeded in suppressing the rebellious desire to look over the precipice. "I wonder if they did right," she said.

Dare looked away, and she breathed more freely, hoping yet fearing that he would immediately resume his disturbing, overpowering intentness. "Sometimes," he said, "I resent it; at other times I'm thankful."

As he was still looking away she ventured an emotional step nearer. "Do you mind explaining that cryptic remark?"

"It's very simple. If their son hadn't married you, I undoubtedly would have. And it would have been a gigantic blunder."

"How do you know you would have?"

"I'm damned if we could have avoided it."

"In other words, those strong instincts you were talking about,—good or bad,—would have taken that funeste direction,—the direction of bringing us smack up against each other for better or worse."

"For a while it would have been heaven on earth. Then hell."

"Why?"

He still avoided her eyes. "Because strong things must clash. Because you and I don't permanently need each other; we're too self-reliant."