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Webster, Henry Kitchell, 1875-1932

"The Real Adventure"

She couldn't go back. She never could go back
after the things she had said to Rodney, until she had made good those
fantastic theories of hers. Probably he wouldn't want her to come back
even then. He'd find out where she was of course--what she was doing.
Why had she been such a fool, going away, as not to have gone far enough
to be safe? He'd feel that she'd disgraced him. Any man would. And he'd
never forgive her. He'd divorce her, perhaps. He'd have a right to, if
she stayed away long enough. And, without her there, with nothing of her
but memories--tormenting memories, he'd perhaps fall in love with some
one else--marry some one else. And her two babies would call that
unknown some one "mother." She must have been crazy! She'd thought she
didn't love them. That had been a delusion anyway. Her heart ached for
them now--an actual physical ache that almost made her cry out. And for
Rodney himself, for his big strong arms around her! Would she ever feel
them again?
She told herself this was a nightmare--something to be fought off, kept
at bay.


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