Linda
dropped the lid and shoved the box back. She stood silent a
second, then she looked at John Gilman.
"That is the way things go in this world," she said quietly.
"Whenever you lose your temper, you always do something you
didn't intend to do when you started. I didn't know that, and I
wouldn't have shown it to you purposely if I had known it; but it
doesn't alter the fact that you should know it. If you did know
it no harm's done but if you didn't know it, you shouldn't be
allowed to marry Eileen without knowing as much about her as you
did about Marian, and there was nothing about Marian that you
didn't know. I am sorry for that, but since I have started this
I am going through with it. Now give me just one minute more."
Then she went down the hall, threw open the door to her room, and
walking in said: "You have seen Eileen's surroundings; now take
a look at mine. There's my bed; there's my dresser and toilet
articles; and this is my wardrobe."
She opened the closet door and exhibited a pair of overalls in
which she watered her desert garden. Next ranged her khaki
breeches and felt hat. Then hung the old serge school dress,
beside it the extra skirt and orange blouse. The stack of
underclothing on the shelves was pitifully small, visibly
dilapidated. Two or three outgrown gingham dresses hung
forlornly on the opposite wall. Linda stood tall and straight
before John Gilman.
"What I have on and one other waist constitute my wardrobe," she
said, "and I told Eileen where to get this dress and suggested it
before I got it.
Pages:
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223