Joe felt all through this long drive
that nothing this side of Heaven would be so good as to die, and he
was glad when the little voice at his elbow said, "What is he so
angry at, Joe?"
"I don't know exactly, dear," he said gently, "but I think it was
what you said about this Indian marriage."
"But why should I not have said it? Is there anything wrong about
it?" she asked pitifully.
"Nothing, that I can see--there was no other way; but Charlie is
very angry, and you must be brave and forgiving with him, Christie,
dear."
"But I did never see him like that before, did you?"
"Once."
"When?"
"Oh, at college, one day, a boy tore his prayer book in half, and
threw it into the grate, just to be mean, you know. Our mother had
given it to him at his confirmation."
"And did he look so?"
"About, but it all blew over in a day--Charlie's tempers are short
and brisk. Just don't take any notice of him; run off to bed, and
he'll have forgotten it by the morning."
They reached home at last. Christie said goodnight quietly, going
directly to her room. Joe went to his room also, filled a pipe and
smoked for an hour. Across the passage he could hear her slippered
feet pacing up and down, up and down the length of her apartment.
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