Dangerous Days - Page 273/297

Very quietly Audrey had taken herself out of Clayton's life. She sent

him a little note of farewell: "We have had ten very wonderful months, Clay," she wrote. "We ought to

be very happy. So few have as much. And we both know that this can't

go on. I am going abroad. I have an opportunity to go over and see what

Englishwomen are doing in the way of standing behind their men at war.

Then I am to tell our women at home. Not that they need it now, bless

them!

"I believe you will be glad to know that I am to be on the same side of

the ocean with Graham. I could get to him, I think, if anything should

go wrong. Will you send him the enclosed address?

"But, my dear, the address is for him, not for you. You must not write

to me. I have used up every particle of moral courage I possess, as

it is. And I am holding this in my mind, as you must. Time is a great

healer of all wounds. We could have been happy together; oh, my dear,

so very happy together! Now that I am going, let me be frank for once. I

have given you the finest thing I am capable of. I am better for caring

for you as I have, as I do.

"But those days in the hospital told me we couldn't go on. Things like

that don't stand still. Maybe--we are only human, Clay--maybe if the old

days were still here we might have compromised with life. I don't know.

But I do know that we never will, now.

"After all, we have had a great deal, and we still have. It is a

wonderful thing to know that somewhere in the world is some one

person who loves you. To waken up in the morning to it. To go to sleep

remembering it. And to have kept that love fine and clean is a wonderful

thing, too.

"I am not always on a pinnacle. There have been plenty of times when the

mere human want of you has sent me to the dust. Is it wrong to tell you

that? But of course not. You know it. But you and I know this; Clay,

dear. Love that is hopeless, that can not end in marriage, does one of

two things. Either it degrades or it exalts. It leaves its mark, always,

but that mark does not need to be a stain."

Clayton lived, for a time after that, in a world very empty and very

full. The new plant was well under way. Not only was he about to make

shells for the government at a nominal profit, but Washington was asking

him to assume new and wide responsibilities. He accepted. He wanted so

to fill the hours that there would be no time to remember. But, more

than that, he was actuated by a fine and glowing desire to serve.

Perhaps, underlying it all was the determination to be, in every way,

the man Audrey thought him to be. And there was, too, a square-jawed

resolution to put behind Graham, and other boys like Graham, all the

shells and ammunition they needed.