He sat tense and white for a while; and when she grew quieter he spoke.
"You were right, Mary. I—naturally, I never—visualized it! It is horrible! I am going to have those fenders on every car of the four systems!"
She said nothing. He spoke again.
"I hate to leave you feeling so, Dear. Must I go?"
She raised a face that was years older, but did not look at him.
"You must go. And you must never come back. I cannot bear to see your face again!"
And she turned from him, shuddering.
BEFORE WARM FEBRUARY WINDS
Before warm February winds
Arouse an April dream—
Or sudden rifts of azure sky
Suggest the bluebird's gleam;
Before the reddening woods awake,
Before the brooks are free—
Here where all things are sold and hired,
The driven months we see.