But life, of course, can not be made up of hours like that. No sane
person can even want to live in a perpetual ecstasy. What makes a
mountain peak is the fall away into the surrounding valleys.
In their valleys of commonplace, every-day existence--and these
occurred even in their first days together--they were stiff, shy,
self-conscious with each other. And their attempt to ignore this fact
only made the self-consciousness the worse. It troubled and bewildered
both of them.
Rose's misgiving had been justified. They weren't the old Rodney and
Rose. Those two splendid careless savages, who had lived for a fortnight
on an island in the midst of Martin Whitney's carefully preserved
solitude in Northern Wisconsin, accepting the gifts of the gods with
such joyous confidence that none of them could ever turn bitter, those
two zestful children, had ceased to exist.
John Galbraith had spoken truth when he said there was no such thing as
a fresh start. For good or evil, you were the product of your
yesterdays.
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