Титан

Aileen’s Last Card

           Itwasanothertype,anotherpointofviewherequired,but,aboveallandprincipally,youth,youththespirit,forinstance,thatwasinBereniceFleming.Hewassorryinhisway.Hefeltsympathy,butitwaslikethetinklingofafar-offsheep-bellthemoaningofawhistlingbuoyheardoverthethrashofnight-blackwavesonastormysea.

           "Youdon’tunderstandhowitis,Aileen,"hesaid."Ican’thelpmyself.Myloveisdead.Itisgone.Ican’trecallit.Ican’tfeelit.IwishIcould,butIcan’t;youmustunderstandthat.Somethingsarepossibleandsomearenot."

           Helookedather,butwithnorelenting.Aileen,forherpart,sawinhiseyesnothing,asshebelieved,savecoldphilosophiclogicthemanofbusiness,thethinker,thebargainer,theplotter.Atthethoughtoftheadamantinecharacterofhissoul,whichcouldthusdefinitelycloseitsgatesonherforeverandever,shebecamewild,angry,feverishnotquitesane.

           "Oh,don’tsaythat!"shepleaded,foolishly."Pleasedon’t.Pleasedon’tsaythat.Itmightcomebackalittleififyouwouldonlybelieveinit.Don’tyouseehowIfeel?Don’tyouseehowitis?"

           Shedroppedtoherkneesandclaspedhimaboutthewaist."Oh,Frank!Oh,Frank!Oh,Frank!"shebegantocall,crying."Ican’tstandit!Ican’t!Ican’t!Ican’t!Ishalldie."

           "Don’tgivewaylikethat,Aileen,"hepleaded."Itdoesn’tdoanygood.Ican’tlietomyself.

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