"This sort of thing isn't fair to me,
you know."
"Come closer." Whatever he might say Dot was happy now. He cared for
her. She had brought him to her side.
"Oh, God," said Anthony hopelessly. As weariness rolled along its
inevitable wave his anger subsided, receded, vanished. He collapsed
suddenly, fell sobbing beside her on the bed.
"Oh, my darling," she begged him, "don't cry! Oh, don't cry!"
She took his head upon her breast and soothed him, mingled her happy
tears with the bitterness of his. Her hand played gently with his
dark hair.
"I'm such a little fool," she murmured brokenly, "but I love you, and
when you're cold to me it seems as if it isn't worth while to go
on livin'."
After all, this was peace--the quiet room with the mingled scent of
women's powder and perfume, Dot's hand soft as a warm wind upon his
hair, the rise and fall of her bosom as she took breath--for a moment it
was as though it were Gloria there, as though he were at rest in some
sweeter and safer home than he had ever known.
An hour passed. A clock began to chime in the hall. He jumped to his
feet and looked at the phosphorescent hands of his wrist watch.
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