Slaves Of Freedom

the garden. All afternoon he had been puzzling over what Harriet had tol

is bell and crying to the night like a troubadour in search of romance. He crouched agains

him, was a figure which he recognized as Harriet’s. At first he thought that she was trying to attract his attention; then he saw that she seemed un

m without her. She won’t send me away and she won’t have me, and—and I haven’t the strength to go away myself. No, it

he armchair—kneeling like a child with his head in the faery-godmother’s lap. He was sobbing. Teddy had heard his mother cry; this was different. There was shame in the man’s crying and the dry choking sound of

all ended. Sometimes I almost hate her. I want to start afresh—but I haven’t the courage. I know myself. If I

an should dare to use you so and that I can’t prevent it! Why, Hal, if I could bear your burdens, and see you glad, and hear your laughter in the

elf to some one for whom it has no value. I’ve been sharp and irritable to you. You’ve wanted to ask questions—you had a right to ask questions; I’ve kept you at arm’s length. You’

lways understood, and—and you don

than any woma

ut. When I was young, girls didn’t treat men as Vashti treats you. If they loved a man, they married him. If they didn’t love him, they told him. They didn’t play fast and loose with him, and take presents from him, and keep him in suspense, and waste his power of hoping. It’s the finest mome

d sharply away from his mother. Her hands slipped from his face to his shoul

n?” she asked

came grim

old me what she’s done to you, my dear. I’m a woman; I can guess—I can guess. She doesn’t love you. She loves to be loved; she never thinks of loving in return. She’s kept you begging like a dog—you, who are my son, of whom any girl might be proud. Perhaps you think that, if she were your wife, it

he most brutal anger to this silence. It struck her down. He kn

pt you, it would be the worst day’s work. The gods yo

u say that. You don’t know—don’t understand. I ought to have gone on keeping this to myself—ought not to have spoke

in doubt, anxious

dness, you flicker out You lose your confidence with her and her friends; their flippancy stifles you. I don’t even doubt that you appear a fool. She’s a beautiful, heartless vampire; if she married you, she’d absorb your personality and leave you shrunken—a nonentity. She’s no standards, no religion, no sense of fairness;

aid for you.” She kissed his mouth. “She’ll make you bad. She will. Oh, I know it. She’ll break you

would be without

ould be bitterness, while she went on smiling. She’s a woman who’ll always have a man in love with her—always a different man. She

him down to her. “

k the gray hair and kiss

e goin

r, it’s shameful that we

ned the door and halted o

ou goi

are things I ha

then buried her face in her hands. When the sound

rkened room. The window was empty. T

illusion, with lesser moons of faint stars following. He remembered that through all his years that white fleet of stars would be watching, riding steadily at anchor. Nothing of bitterness could sink