Their ways in life, now became separate and distinct, Ronald
going more than ever into society, Dora clinging more to the safe
shelter of home.
But society was expensive in two ways--not only from the outlay
in dress and other necessaries, but in the time taken from work.
There were many days when Ronald never went near his studio, and
only returned home late in the evening to leave early in the
morning. He was only human, this young hero who had sacrificed
so much for love; and there were times, after some brilliant fete
or soiree, when the remembrance of home, Dora, hard work, narrow
means, would come to him like a heavy weight or the shadow of a
dark cloud.
Not that he loved her less--pretty, tender Dora; but there was
not one feeling or taste in common between them. Harder men
would have tired of her long before. They never cared to speak
much of home, for Dora noticed that Ronald was always sad after a
letter from Lady Earle. The time came when she hesitated to
speak of her own parents, lest he should remember much that she
would have liked him to forget.
If any true friend had stepped in then, and warned them, life
would have been a different story for Ronald Earle and his wife.
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