and spare Greg what you can--"

Rachael could do neither. She wanted Warren every minute, and she
wanted nobody else. Her favorite hours were when she lay on the
couch, near the fire, playing with his free hand, while he read to
her or talked to her. She wanted to hear, over and over again,
that he loved no one else; and sometimes she declined invitations
without even consulting him, "because we're happier by our own
fire than anywhere else, aren't we, dearest?" "Don't tell me about
your stupid operations!" she would smile at him, "talk about--US!"

She went over and over the details of her old life with a certain
morbid satisfaction in his constant reassurance. Her marriage had
not been the cause of Clarence's suicide, nor of Billy's
elopement; she had done her share for them both, more than her
share!

Summer came, and she and the baby were comfortably established at
Home Dunes. Warren came when he could, perhaps twice a month, and
usually without warning. If he promised her the week-ends, she
felt aggrieved to have him miss one, so he wired her every day,
and sent her books and fruit, letters and magazines every week,
and came at irregular intervals. Alice and George Valentine and
their children, her garden, her baby, and the ocean she loved so
well must fill this summer for Rachael.




CHAPTER III