Even the things of which they talked had lost their radiance. What did it matter whether the universe was wonderful or not if the wonderful thing in one's own heart was to be denied life?
From the first, it had been as if the things of which they talked were things sweeping them together, they were in the grip of the power and the wonder of those things, wrung by the tragedy of them, exalted by the hope—in it all, by it all, united. It was as if the whole sea of experience and emotion, suffering and aspiration, was driving, holding, them together.
So it had been all along.
But not tonight. It was now—or at least so it seemed to Katie—as if those forces had let them go. What had been as a great sea surging around their hearts was now just things to talk about.
It left her desolate. And as she grew unhappy, she forced her gaiety and that seemed to put him the farther away.
The two different worlds had sent Ann away; was it, in a way she was unable to cope with, likewise to send him away?
Watts passed through the hall. She saw him glance out at the soldier loweringly and after that he grew more morose, almost sullenly so.
It seemed foolish to talk of one's being free when held by things one could not even see.
It was just when she was feeling so lonely and miserable she wished he would go that the telephone rang and central told her that Chicago was trying to get her.
It was in the manner of the old days that she turned to him and asked what he thought it could be.