Twilight Sleep
in such youthful blueness blurred with uncomprehended pain.
"I suppose it's never got much do with reasons," he said, very low.
"No; that's why it's so silly—and ungenerous."
"It doesn't matter what it is. She doesn't care a hang if I'm jealous or if I'm not. She doesn't care anything about me. I've simply ceased to exist for her."
"Well, then you can't be in her way."
"It seems I am, though. Because I do exist, for the world; and as the boy's father. And the mere idea gets on her nerves."
Nona laughed a little bitterly. "She wants a good deal of elbow-room, doesn't she? And how does she propose to eliminate you?"
"Oh, that's easy. Divorce."
There was a silence between the two. This was how it sounded—that simple reasonable request—on the lips of the other partner, the partner who still had a stake in the affair! Lately she seemed to have forgotten that side of the question; but how hidcously it grimaced at her now, behind the lines of this boyish face wrung with a man's misery !
"Old Jim—it hurts such a lot?"
He jerked away from her outstretched hand. "Hurt? A fellow can stand being hurt. It can't hurt more than feeling her chained to me. But if she goes—what does she go to?"
Ah—that was it! Through the scorch and cloud
