Book Four The Bruising of the Wings Chapter 2 The Irony of Life

When John's card was brought, I was tempted to refuse to see him. But at the thought that he would know too well how to interpret reserves, I went down, nerved to meet him with a smile.

"Why, John," I said with my most pleased expression, "back from the West so soon? You've heard the news, I suppose--my cousins sailed this morning."

He had turned from the window at the rustle of my dress, and the grimness of his square-set jaws, warning me of a coming struggle, relaxed into a look of perplexity. Men have so little insight; he could not see that, as I sank, still smiling, into a chair, my breath came in gasps that almost choked me. After a moment's silence he said sharply:-"Helen, we must be married."

"Married! Didn't you get my letter? John--"

"Listen!" he interrupted. "I must have the right to take care of you. You need me."

"Indeed?"

My tone was purposed insolence; I met his look with bravado. I hated him because he--because I--because he dared to know--because he offered to come to my relief when my aunt--Ned--perhaps he thought me deserted-- lovelorn. His awkward figure woke in me a sudden physical repulsion.

"I need you?" I repeated with a cool laugh. "And except the good deed of providing me with a husband, what services do you propose to--"

"Nelly," he said, disregarding my taunts, "I have just come from the Orinoco. When I reached the office this morning and heard that the party was starting, I assumed that you would be with it and hurried to the pier. If I'd missed the boat, I might not have learned the truth until-- when? Why have they gone without you? What does it all mean?"