" And then with a burst, before she could speak:
"You must remember me as the most blindly opinionated fool in the
world!"
She caught her breath, then said very quietly, with a warm little laugh
in her voice, "That's not how I remember you, Rodney."
She declined to help him when he tried to scramble back to the safe
shores of conventional conversation. That sort of thing had lasted long
enough. She just walked along in step with him and, for her part, in
silence. It wasn't long before he fell silent too.
A thing that Rose hadn't counted on was the effect produced on both of
them just by walking along like this together, side by side, in step.
Just the rhythm of it established a sort of communion--and it was a
communion fortified by many associations. Practically the whole of their
courtship, from the day when he dropped off the street-car with her in
the rain and walked her over to the elevated and kept her note-books,
down to the day on the bridge over the Drainage Canal in the swirl of
that March blizzard, when she'd felt his first embrace, had been on foot
like this, tramping along side by side; miles and miles and miles, as
she'd told her mother.
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