Modern Chronicle, a — Volume 04 by Winston Churchill
page 36 of 89 (40%)
page 36 of 89 (40%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
I--I was made for something better. I'm sure of it. But I wish my life to
be joined to yours, too--and it doesn't seem to be. And sometimes--I'm afraid I can't explain it to you--sometimes I feel lonely and frightened, as though I might do something desperate. And I don't know what's going to become of me." He laid down his newspaper and stared at her helplessly, with the air of a man who suddenly finds himself at sea in a small boat without oars. "Oh, you can't understand!" she cried. "I might have known you never could." He was, indeed, thoroughly perplexed and uncomfortable: unhappy might not be too strong a word. He got up awkwardly and put his hand on her arm. She did not respond. He drew her, limp and unresisting, down on the lounge beside him. "For heaven's sake, what is the matter, Honora?" he faltered. "I--I thought we were happy. You were getting on all right, and seemed to be having a good time down here. You never said anything about--this." She turned her head and looked at him--a long, searching look with widened eyes. "No," she said slowly, "you don't understand. I suppose it isn't your fault." "I'll try," he said, "I don't like to see you--upset like this. I'll do anything I can to make you happy." |
|