“How do people bear these things? I haven’t hurt anybody or done any harm to have to suffer this way. When I’m alone I keep thinking of them—how happy they are together, not caring for anything in the world but each other. I think of him kissing her. I think that some day they’ll have a baby—” her voice trailed away hoarsely and she sank back in the chair, her head on her breast.
The Colonel got up and walked to the window. These same savage pangs had once torn him. In his powerful heyday it had taken all the force of his manhood to crush them. How could she wage that blasting fight? He turned and looked at her as she sat fallen together in the embrace of the chair.
“I think you’re right, June, about going away,” he said. “It’s the best thing for you to do. The old man’ll have to get on as well as he can for a while without you.”
She did not move and answered in a dull voice:
“It’s the only thing for me to do.”
“When were you thinking of going?”
“Soon—as soon as I can. Anyway before January. I must go before then. And—and—Uncle Jim, this was what I came to ask you and was afraid. We’ve been a long time getting to it.”
She looked at him with a sort of tentative uneasiness.
“It’s asking a good deal,” she added, “but you’ve always been so good to me.”
“What is it, dearie?” he said gently. “Don’t you know it’s my pleasure to do anything for you?”