Page:Willa Cather - The Song of the Lark.djvu/477

 them out from me. We 've been a help and a hindrance to each other. I guess it 's always that way, the good and the bad all mixed up. There 's only one thing that 's all beautiful—and always beautiful! That 's why my interest keeps up."

"Yes, I know." Fred looked sidewise at the outline of her head against the thickening atmosphere. "And you give one the impression that that is enough. I 've gradually, gradually given you up."

"See, the lights are coming out." Thea pointed to where they flickered, flashes of violet through the gray tree-tops. Lower down the globes along the drives were becoming a pale lemon color. "Yes, I don 't see why anybody wants to marry an artist, anyhow. I remember Ray Kennedy used to say he did n't see how any woman could marry a gambler, for she would only be marrying what the game left." She shook her shoulders impatiently. "Who marries who is a small matter, after all. But I hope I can bring back your interest in my work. You 've cared longer and more than anybody else, and I 'd like to have somebody human to make a report to once in a while. You can send me your spear. I 'll do my best. If you 're not interested, I 'll do my best anyhow. I 've only a few friends, but I can lose every one of them, if it has to be. I learned how to lose when my mother died.—We must hurry now. My taxi must be waiting."

The blue light about them was growing deeper and darker, and the falling snow and the faint trees had become violet. To the south, over Broadway, there was an orange reflection in the clouds. Motors and carriage lights flashed by on the drive below the reservoir path, and the air was strident with horns and shrieks from the whistles of the mounted policemen.

Fred gave Thea his arm as they descended from the embankment. "I guess you 'll never manage to lose me or Archie, Thea. You do pick up queer ones. But loving