You have imagined yourself
in love dozens of times, and have learned nothing from it. But we are
losing time. Tell me one thing, and let's be done with it. Have you
engaged yourself to this _new_ one?"
"No, but--"
"Thank God for the 'but,' and let it go at that," she laughed, more
freely. "I understand why you didn't better than you do. You doubted
your own feelings. You thought you would for once in your life think
it over."
"It was not that which held me back."
"I know; it was Irene Mitchell, her fine prospects, and your natural
good horse sense. Dick, you couldn't carry that silly dream through to
save your life. You are not made that way. Suppose you really married
that little country thing. What would you do with her? Well, I'll tell
you. You would break her heart--that's what you'd do. You couldn't fit
her into your life if you were deity itself and she were an archangel.
She seemed perfect up there in her Maud Muller surroundings, but here
in this mad town she would be afraid of you, and you would--ask her to
keep her finger out of her mouth. Why, you would be the joke of every
soul in Atlanta. Mr. Mitchell would despise you. You would lose his
influence. In fact, my dear boy, you have gone too far with Irene
Mitchell to turn back now.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193