Page:Harold Titus--Timber.djvu/142

134 He watched the spires of restless light creep up and upward, sweeping in from right and left, seeming to come from east and west as well as from beneath the north star until they converged above his head, forming a cone, tremulous and fading swiftly.

He clasped one hand with the other and worked at its fingers slowly.

"And Marcia?" He shook his head and one knee gave suddenly. "I can't keep my promise—unless you find happiness—with me—" He started on slowly but his pace grew rapid and within a half mile of the men's shanty he burst out:

"God, Marcia—I don't want to make you happy—any more!"