Do you remember that when you were at
school in Applegate, you'd tell me the names of the books you read so
that I might get them?"
"Don't," she cried fiercely, "don't tell me those things, for I'll never
believe them! I'm hard and bitter inside, there's no softness in me. If
I went on my knees and prayed to love, I couldn't do it. Oh, Abel, there
isn't any love in my heart!"
"Do you remember when you kissed me?"
"No, I have forgotten."
"It was only three weeks ago."
"Yes, that was three weeks ago."
The light died slowly out of his eyes as he looked at her.
"When you speak like that I begin to wonder if any good can ever come
to us," he returned. "I've gone on breaking my heart over you ever since
you were a little girl in short dresses, and I can't remember that I've
ever had anything but misery from you in my life. It's damnable the
things I've stood and yet I've always forgotten them afterwards, and
remembered only the times you were soft and gentle and had ceased to be
shrewish. Nobody on earth can be softer than you, Molly, when you want
to, and it's your softness, after all, that has held me in spite of
your treatment.
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