"I know."
"If I could only protect you, and shield you--oh, how tenderly I could
care for you, my dear, my dear!"
The strength passed to him, then. Audrey had a clear picture of what
life with him might mean, of his protection, his tenderness. She had
never known it. Suddenly every bit of her called out for his care, his
quiet strength.
"Don't make me sorry for myself." There were tears in her eyes. "Will
you kiss me, Clay? We might have that to remember."
But they were not to have even that, for the taxicab drew up before her
hotel. It was one of the absurd anti-climaxes of life that they should
part with a hand-clasp and her formal "Thank you for a lovely evening."
Audrey was the better actor of the two. She went in as casually as
though she had not put the only happiness of her life away from her.
But Clayton Spencer stood on the pavement, watching her in, and all the
tragedy of the empty years ahead was in his eyes.