Jennette Lee

“ He had not believed that they could live together in harmony a single year; and lie had watched with puzzled eyes the transformation of the man, the serene, untroubled life of the woman. Of late years he had given over thinking of it. He himself had married. He had plenty of problems of his own, and children. But this morning as he sat in the home-like room, asking the crisp, legal questions and writing swiftly, it all came back to him with puzzling freshness. The intervening years were wiped away as he looked into John Melvin's face—weak and old, with something of the boy in it. ”

“ She felt again the quick blush of shame, the shrinking fingers and startled face and swift pain of the girl-wife. ... She rose to her feet, shrugging her shoulders a little and brushing the bits of stem from her lap. She must finish her work. ... No one had guessed what she had suffered that first night, and the next time it had happened—and the next. Her will had mastered his at last. It had not been easy. But it had been done, and now it was over—and the best years of her life. ... The lips grew hard, again as she bent above the roses, setting them in place. ”

“ The mass of flowers and heavy sweetness oppressed her. She still held the scissors in her hand, but she turned out the lights and passed hastily on. To-morrow let them be bundled out and burned. Let them wither on their stems where they stood. Her work was done. To-morrow life would begin.
She had reached the door of the library. John Melvin, looking up from his paper with a smile, saw her standing there. He may have been reading or he may have been only dozing between the lines. But his face lighted up swiftly when he saw her. ”

“ One ant she seemed to see oftener than others—a female ant with long hair that it did up, standing in front of the mirror and coiling it anxiously about its round, black head, peering in the glass for wrinkles. Sometimes this ant grew sad and seated herself to weep, digging her long black feelers into her unhappy eyes. ”

“ The lawyer's gaze sought again the face in the white cap. He had never understood it. ... John Melvin was weak. He had always been weak. Yet somehow he had always won out. And now he was sitting across his library table, making over to his wife the half of a fortune that any one might be proud to own. It was natural that he should wish to give it to her now, in this way, rather than trust the chances of a will. ... They had always been strangely equal—this man and woman—more like comrades than married people. ”

“ She laughed lightly.
"You are not tired!" He was looking up at her, the puzzled look still in his eyes. "You are your own daughter!" he declared.
She smiled beneath the white border of the cap—a smile that startled him, so luminous was it, and clear and care free, "I am young," she said. "I mean never to grow old."
"You never will," he replied, lifting his hat as he left her.
She went slowly up the stairs, the little smile still on her lips.
In the library the old man with the boy's face fumbled with the papers, gathering them up in trembling hands and putting them away in the table drawer. ”

“ It was a vision that was often with her—a vision of the world—of men and women—like a very busy community of very black ants hurrying hither and thither—their black legs alive with importance—eating and drinking and sleeping ”

“ She straightened herself with a little cry and stood up, the tears running down her face unheeded. She stretched out her hands, groping vaguely. Then they fell to her sides, and she stood very still, listening. ... The beat of the breath had changed. Yes, it was swifter now—and fainter—and halting a little in the sigh that came—slowly—at the last.
She rang a bell and gave quick directions. The fight had begun. She bent to it all the force of her will. He should not die. He should come back from the far place—the man who had won her. Her soul and her will were his. He should not die. ”

“ The child's husband would be her master. He was only twenty-five, but he was a man—born to lead men and to master women. Theodora would have a happy life—and she was the last one. They were all married now, and married rather well. Mrs. Melvin lifted her face with a little sigh of relief. She glanced about the dismantled room with a look of satisfaction. It was almost finished—the life that had smothered her and held her for twenty-eight years. ... She had married a boy—twenty-three years old, but none the less a boy. She had married his blond face and waving hair and tall, lithe limbs. ”

“ He had been a god to her—a Viking. ... The servants had left the room; and she was alone, gazing into the mass of flowers. Her hands had fallen in her lap and the scissors were idle. She was looking into the face of the man she had married ... so long ago.
She came back from her dream with a little shudder—as she had come back that first night when he had been brought home to her in a drunken stupor, limp and helpless, the even teeth and pink tongue gleaming from behind loose-parted lips. ”

“ There is enough for us both. Do you suppose that I do not know?" She laughed a little bitterly. "You will see Mr. Adams to-day and make assignments. If you need to consult me, I shall be in my room."
Something in his face as she handed him back the check stayed her hand for a minute. It was like the look in the face of her oldest boy, Harold, once when she had misjudged him. She had never forgotten the look. The boy had worshipped her, and in trying to please her had blundered. ... She had never thought that the boy looked like his father. The children were not like him. ... ”