And she had cried, "Oh, Dad, Dad," and had wept in his arms. But she
had not told him that she was Barry's wife. It was because of Barry's
going, she had admitted; it seemed as if her heart would break.
The General talked the situation over with Mary. "How will she stand
it, when he is really gone?"
"It will be better when the parting is over, and she settles down to
other things."
Yet that day, after the christening, Mary wondered if what she had said
was true. What would life hold for Leila when Barry was gone?
Her own life without Roger Poole was blank. Reluctantly, she was
forced to admit it. Constance, the baby, Porter, these were the
shadows, Roger was the substance.
The letters which had passed between them had shown her depths in him
which had hitherto been unrevealed. Comparing him with Porter Bigelow,
she realized that Porter could never say the things which Roger said;
he could not think them.
And while in the eyes of the world Roger was a defeated man, and Porter
a successful one, yet there was this to think of, that Porter's
qualities were negative rather than positive. With all of his
opportunities, he was narrowing his life to the pursuit of pleasure and
his love for her. Roger had shirked responsibility toward his fellow
man by withdrawal; Porter was shirking by indifference.
So she found herself, as many another woman has found herself, fighting
the battle of the less fortunate. Roger wanted her, yet pressed no
claim. Porter wanted her and meant to have her.
He had shown of late his impatience at the restraint which she had put
upon him. He had encroached more and more upon her time--demanded more
and more. He had been kept from saying the things which she did not
want him to say only by the fact that she would not listen.
She knew that he was expecting things which could never be--and that by
her silence she was giving sanction to his expectations. Yet she found
herself dreading to say the final word which would send him from her.
The friendship between a man and a woman has this poignant quality--it
has no assurance of permanence. For, if either marries, the other must
suffer loss; if either loves, the other must put away that which may
have become a prized association. As her friend, Mary valued Porter
highly. She had known him all her life. Yet she was aware that she
was taking all and returning nothing; and surely Porter had the right
to ask of life something more than that.