"I don't think," she said, glancing away from him, "that one finds it
by looking for it. That is selfish, and the selfish are never happy.
It comes--oh, in queer ways. When you're trying to give it to somebody
else, mostly."
"There is happiness, of a sort, in work."
Their eyes met. That was what they had to face, she dedicated to
service, he to labor.
"It's never found by making other people unhappy, Clay."
"No. And yet, if the other people are already unhappy?"
"Never!" she said. And the answer was to the unspoken question in both
their hearts.
It was not until they were in the taxicab that Clayton forced the
personal note, and then it came as a cry, out of the very depths of him.
She had slipped her hand into his, and the comfort of even that small
touch broke down the barriers he had so carefully erected.
"I need you so!" he said. And he held her hand to his face. She made no
movement to withdraw it.
"I need you, too," she replied. "I never get over needing you. But we
are going to play the game, Clay. We may have our weak hours--and this
is one of them--but always, please God, we'll play the game."
The curious humility he felt with her was in his voice.
"I'll need your help, even in that."
And that touch of boyishness almost broke down her reserve of strength.
She wanted to draw his head down on her shoulder, and comfort him. She
wanted to smooth back his heavy hair, and put her arms around him and
hold him. There was a great tenderness in her for him. There were times
when she would have given the world to have gone into his arms and let
him hold her there, protected and shielded. But that night she was the
stronger, and she knew it.
"I love you, Audrey. I love you terribly."
And that was the word for it. It was terrible. She knew it.
"To have gone through all the world," he said, brokenly, "and then to
find the Woman, when it is too late. Forever too late." He turned toward
her. "You know it, don't you? That you are my woman?"
"I know it," she answered, steadily. "But I know, too--"
"Let me say it just once. Then never again. I'll bury it, but you will
know it is there. You are my woman. I would go through all of life alone
to find you at the end. And if I could look forward, dear, to going
through the rest of it with you beside me, so I could touch you, like
this--"