Crazy Radio eBooks

If ever the leap was to be
made, it must be made now. The rainbow bridge across the crevasse, the
miracle of motherhood, had faded like the mist it was composed of.
She was a mother now. Yet her relation to her husband's life was the
same as that of the girl who had gone to his office the night of the
Randolphs' dinner. And no external event--nothing that could _happen_ to
her (remember that even motherhood had "happened" in her case) could
ever transmute that relation into the thing she wanted. If the alchemy
were to be wrought at all, it would be by the act of her own will--at
the cost of a deliberately assumed struggle. There was nothing, any
more, to hope from waiting. The thing that whispered, "Wait!
To-morrow--some to-morrow or other, it may be easier! Wait until, for
yourself, you've thought out the consequences,"--that was the voice of
cowardice. If she turned back, down the easier path, to-night, it must
be under no delusion that she'd ever try to climb again, or find a pair
of magic wings that would carry her, effortless, to what she wanted.


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