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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"Dangerous Days"


"I believe you're half in love with Clay yourself!"
"Perhaps I am."
But she smiled frankly into Natalie's eyes.
"I know if I were married to him, I'd try to do what he wanted."
"You'd try it for a year. Then you'd give it up. It's one thing
to admire a man. It's quite different being married to him, and
having to put up with all sorts of things?"
Her voice trailed off before the dark vision of her domestic,
unhappiness. And again, as with Graham and his father, it was what
she did not say that counted. Audrey came close to hating her just
then.
So far the conversation had not touched on Graham, and now they
were turning in the new drive. Already the lawns Were showing
green, and extensive plantings of shrubbery were putting out their
pale new buds. Audrey, bending forward in the car, found it very
lovely, and because it belonged to Clay, was to be his home, it
thrilled her, just as the towering furnaces of his mill thrilled
her, the lines of men leaving at nightfall.


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