place to stand on this planet was eating the
heart and soul out of men and women in the city, just as in the
country. But he could say nothing. If be had said in conventional
phrase, sitting there in his soft clothing, "We must make the best of
it all," the woman could justly have thrown the dishcloth in his
face. He could say nothing.
"I was a fool for ever marrying," she went on, while the baby
pushed a chair across the room. "I made a decent living teaching, I
was free to come and go, my money was my own. Now I'm fled
right down to a churn or a dishpan, I never have a cent of my own.
He's growlin' round half the time, and there's no chance of his ever
being different."
She stopped with a bitter sob in her throat. She forgot she was
talking to her husband's brother. She was conscious only of his
sympathy.
As if a great black cloud had settled down upon him, Howard felt
it all-the horror, hopelessness, immanent tragedy of it all. The
glory of nature, the bounty and splendor of the sky, only made it
the more benumbing. He thought of a sentence Millet once wrote:
I see very well the aureole of the dandelions, and the sun also, far
down there behind the hills, flinging his glory upon the clouds.
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