I'd rather go. I like to
wake in my own place."
"I wish you'd let me go with you, Rich," Jim said, with a gentleness new
to him. "I'm so sick of everything. I can't think of anything I'd like
so well."
"Sure, come along," Richard said, touched. "Everything's pretty simple,
you know, but I'll telephone Bruce and have him--"
"Cut out the telephoning," Jim interrupted. "Bread and coffee'll do. And
a fire, huh?"
"Sure," Richard said again, "there's always a fire."
"Great!" Jim approved. "We can smoke, and talk about--"
"About Ju," Richie supplied, with a gruff little laugh, as he paused.
"About Ju," Jim repeated, with a long sigh.
Two days later he went to see her, to beg her to be his wife again. He
asked her to forget and forgive the past, to trust him once more, to
give him another chance to make her happy. He spoke of the Harley Street
house, of the new friends she would find, of Barbara's nearness with the
boys that Julia loved so well. He spoke of Anna; for Anna's sake they
must be together; their little girl must not be sacrificed. Anna should
have the prettiest nursery in London, and in summer they would go down
to Barbara, and the cousins should play together.
Pages:
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615