Thinking during that period was inevitable. She might as well begin now.
Mortimer had some of those gifts. He worked like a dog, he was ambitious
and temperate and he was the soul of honor. But although his brain was
clear enough, the blindest love would, perceive in time that it lacked
originality.
Did it also lack initiative, resource, that peculiar alertness and quick
pouncing quality of which she had heard? She wished she knew, but she had
never discussed her husband with any one. Certainly he had stood still.
Or was that merely the fault of the hard times? She had heard other men
complain as bitterly.
"Fate handed you a lemon, old girl."
Alexina could almost hear Aileen's mocking voice. She even gave a startled
glance down the quiet avenue. Well, she would never discuss him with Aileen
or any one else.
Did she love him any longer? Had she ever loved him? What was love? She had
been quite happy with him in her own little way. What did girls of eighteen
know of love? Deliberately in her youthful arrogance and unlicensed
imagination she had manufactured a fool's paradise; and, a hero being
indispensable, had dragged him in after her.
Perhaps she still loved him. She had read and seen enough to know that
love changed its character as the years went on. She respected his many
admirable qualities and she would never forget his devotion to her mother.
She certainly liked him.
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