She had cost him
his belief in himself. Her last words had crystallized his own
sense of failure.
"I admit all your good qualities, Clay. Heaven knows they are
evident enough. But you are the sort people admire. They don't
love you. They never will."
Yet that night he had had a curious sense that old Buckham loved him.
Maybe he was the sort men loved and women admired.
He sat down and leaned back in his chair, watching the fire-logs.
He felt very tired. What was that Buckham had said about memories?
But Buckham was old. He was young, young and strong. There would
be many years, and even his most poignant memories would grow dim.
Audrey! Audrey!
From the wall over the mantel Natalie's portrait still surveyed the
room with its delicate complacence. He looked up at it. Yes,
Natalie had been right, he was not the sort to make a woman happy.
There were plenty of men, young men, men still plastic, men who had
not known shipwreck, and some such man Audrey would marry.
Pages:
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649