"Tom looked at her. He saw the thrill, of life, adventure and youth shake her. He saw with an old, old understanding that because he was going away, alone, upon the road, he meant to her what he never could have meant had he remained."
And then Tom bent and kissed her. He could in all honour because something deep in his heart told him that he was indeed bidding her good-bye.
"When I come back," he was saying, while he felt far, far away, "we'll just try the road, Donelle. I know you'll do your part. And always keep this in mind: when I look back home I'll see you at the other end of the road, girl. Your eyes will have the yellow light in them that will brighten the darkest night I'll ever tramp through. I had to tell you that."
"Thank you, Tom."
"It wasn't the honest thing to marry you the way I did. I had no right."
"Yes, you had, Tom. Yes. Yes!"
"No. I think we could have found a better way, if we had taken time, but I was sort of blinded."
"And so was I, Tom, blinded and crazed."
"Donelle—"