"It's the first
time you ever accused me of that."
She made no rejoinder. She had a feeling at the throat that prevented
speech, even had she had any words to utter. Certainly, as he had
discovered, she was very tired. It was physical weariness, no doubt,
but she had an almost overmastering desire to shed childish tears.
"You trot back now," said Nick cheerily. "I can grub along quite well
by myself."
She turned back silently. Why was it that the world seemed so grey
and cold on that golden summer afternoon? She sat down again in the
sunshine, and began to trace an aimless design in the sand with the
stick Nick had left behind. Away in the distance she heard his cracked
voice humming. Was he really as cheerful as he seemed, she wondered?
Or was he merely making the best of things?
Again her thoughts went back to Olga's pathetic little revelation.
Strange that she who knew him so intimately should never have seen him
in such a mood! But did she know him after all? It was a question
she had asked herself many times of late. She remembered how he had
lightly told her that he had a reverse side. But had she ever really
seen it, save for those brief glimpses by Olga's bedside, and as it
was reflected in the child's whole-souled devotion to him? She wished
with all her heart that he would lift the veil just once for her and
show her his inner soul.
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