"I've knocked about a lot, all over the world," he explained in a casual
way during a talk they had had on the night of their marriage, at the
first stopping-place to which their motor brought them. "My mother died
when I was a small boy, died in a terrible way I don't want to talk
about, and losing her broke up my father and me for a while. He never got
over it as long as he lived, and I never will as long as I live.
"The way my father died was almost as tragic as my mother's death," he
went on after a tense moment of remembering. "I was only a boy even then;
and ever since the 'knocking-about' process has been going on. I haven't
seen much of the best side of life, but I've wanted it. That was why, for
one reason, you made such an appeal to me at first sight. You were as
plucky and generous as any Bohemian, though I could see you were a
delicate, inexperienced girl, brought up under glass like the orchid you
look--and are. I'm used to making up my mind in a hurry--I've had to--so
it didn't take me many minutes to realize that if I could get you to link
up with me, I should have the thing I'd been looking for.
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