There should come, to take their place, friends, a new zest in the
romance of achievement, since other romance had gone, and - peace.
But the peace of the middle span of life should be the peace of
fulfillment, and of a home and a woman.
Natalie was not happy, but she seemed contented enough. Her life
satisfied her. The new house in the day-time, bridge, the theater
in the evening or the opera, dinners, dances, clothes - they seemed
to be enough for her. But his life was not enough for him. What
did he want anyhow? In God's name, what did he want?
One night, impatient with himself, he picked up the book of love
lyrics in its mauve cover, from his bedside table. He read one,
then another. He read them slowly, engrossingly. It was as though
something starved in him was feeding eagerly on this poor food.
Their passion stirred him as in his earlier years he had never been
stirred. For just a little time, while Natalie danced that night,
Clayton Spencer faced the tragedy of the man in his prime, still
strong and lusty with life, with the deeper passions of the
deepening years, who has outgrown and outloved the woman he married.
Pages:
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166