It is a
wonderful thing to know that somewhere in the world is some one
person who loves you. To waken up in the morning to it. To go to
sleep remembering it. And to have kept that love fine and clean is
a wonderful thing, too.
"I am not always on a pinnacle. There have been plenty of times
when the mere human want of you has sent me to the dust. Is it
wrong to tell you that? But of course not. You know it. But you
and I know this; Clay, dear. Love that is hopeless, that can not
end in marriage, does one of two things. Either it degrades or it
exalts. It leaves its mark, always, but that mark does not need
to be a stain."
Clayton lived, for a time after that, in a world very empty and very
full. The new plant was well under way. Not only was he about to
make shells for the government at a nominal profit, but Washington
was asking him to assume new and wide responsibilities. He accepted.
He wanted so to fill the hours that there would be no time to
remember. But, more than that, he was actuated by a fine and glowing
desire to serve.
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