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Young Irony
"Ican’tberational—andIwon’tbemolecular."
Sheleanedtowardhim,herburningeyesneverleavinghisownandwhisperedwithasortofromanticfinality:
"Ithoughtso,Juan,Ifearedso—you’resentimental.You’renotlikeme.I’maromanticlittlematerialist."
"I’mnotsentimental—I’masromanticasyouare.Theidea,youknow,isthatthesentimentalpersonthinksthingswilllast—theromanticpersonhasadesperateconfidencethattheywon’t."(ThiswasanancientdistinctionofAmory’s.)
"Epigrams.I’mgoinghome,"shesaidsadly."Let’sgetoffthehaystackandwalktothecross-roads."
Theyslowlydescendedfromtheirperch.Shewouldnotlethimhelpherdownandmotioninghimawayarrivedinagracefullumpinthesoftmudwhereshesatforaninstant,laughingatherself.Thenshejumpedtoherfeetandslippedherhandintohis,andtheytiptoedacrossthefields,jumpingandswingingfromdryspottodryspot.Atranscendentdelightseemedtosparkleineverypoolofwater,forthemoonhadrisenandthestormhadscurriedawayintowesternMaryland.WhenEleanor’sarmtouchedhishefelthishandsgrowcoldwithdeadlyfearlestheshouldlosetheshadowbrushwithwhichhisimaginationwaspaintingwondersofher.Hewatchedherfromthecornersofhiseyesaseverhedidwhenhewalkedwithher—shewasafeastandafollyandhewishedithadbeenhisdestinytositforeveronahaystackandseelifethroughhergreeneyes.
