She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. You are always doing something for nothing, and that is why I love you. “Maybe we could swing a scholarship to Boston College for you, you know, with your violin and all. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. ‘Jarvis Remenham was your mother’s father. She limited herself to eating once a fortnight, until she discovered that she could go without comfortably for a month. If Ann Veronica could have put words to that song they would have been, “Hot-blooded marriage or none!” but she was far too indistinct in this matter to frame any words at all.
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