“Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. Gave me a purse, and told me to take both of ’em up to Harwich and put them on a packet for Holland. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. To her, marriage would be a buckler against the two evils which pursued her. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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