CHAPTER XLI

Valancylookeddullyaboutheroldroom.It,too,wassoexactlythesamethatitseemedalmostimpossibletobelieveinthechangesthathadcometohersinceshehadlastsleptinit.Itseemed—somehow—indecentthatitshouldbesomuchthesame.TherewasQueenLouiseeverlastinglycomingdownthestairway,andnobodyhadlettheforlornpuppyinoutoftherain.Herewasthepurplepaperblindandthegreenishmirror.Outside,theoldcarriage-shopwithitsblatantadvertisements.Beyondit,thestationwiththesamederelictsandflirtatiousflappers. Heretheoldlifewaitedforher,likesomegrimogrethatbidedhistimeandlickedhischops.Amonstroushorrorofitsuddenlypossessedher.Whennightfellandshehadundressedandgotintobed,themercifulnumbnesspassedawayandshelayinanguishandthoughtofherislandunderthestars.Thecamp-fires—alltheirlittlehouseholdjokesandphrasesandcatchwords—theirfurrybeautifulcats—thelightsagleamonthefairyislands—canoesskimmingoverMistawisinthemagicofmorning—whitebirchesshiningamongthedarkspruceslikebeautifulwomen’sbodies—wintersnowsandrose-redsunsetfires—lakesdrunkenwithmoonshine—allthedelightsofherlostparadise.ShewouldnotletherselfthinkofBarney.Onlyoftheselesserthings.ShecouldnotenduretothinkofBarney. Thenshethoughtofhiminescapably.Sheachedforhim.Shewantedhisarmsaroundher—hisfaceagainsthers—hiswhispersinherear.Sherecalledallhisfriendlylooksandquipsandjests—hislittlecompliments—hiscaresses.Shecountedthemalloverasawomanmightcountherjewels—notonedidshemissfromthefirstdaytheyhadmet.Thesememorieswereallshecouldhavenow.Sheshuthereyesandprayed. “Letme