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Webster, Henry Kitchell, 1875-1932

"The Real Adventure"

The thing would rankle always. And if anything did happen to one
of the babies because the new nurse wasn't quite so good, you'd never
forgive me--not in all the world.
"And," she added a little later, "that would be just as true of any
other compromise. I mean like going and living in a flat and letting me
do the housework--any of the things we've talked about. I can say I am
going away, don't you see, but I couldn't say I'd go away--_unless_ ...
I couldn't use that threat to extort things from you without killing our
whole life dead. Can't you see that?"
His mind infuriated him by agreeing with her--goaded him into another
passionate outburst during which he accused her of bad faith, of being
tired of him, anxious to get away from him--seizing pretexts. But he
offered no more compromises. The thing he fell back on after that was a
plea for delay. The question must be decided coolly; not like this. Let
them just put it out of their minds for a while, go on with the old
routine as if nothing threatened it and see if things didn't work
somewhat better--see if they weren't, after all, better friends than she
thought.


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