And his concerts--the elation of being identified with his
success! But, above all, the excitement of making her home as dainty as
she could, with daring experiments in form and colour. And yet, at heart
she knew that to be already looking forward, banning the present, was a
bad sign.
One thing, at all events, she enjoyed--sailing. They had blue days when
even the March sun was warm, and there was just breeze enough. He got on
excellently well with the old salt whose boat they used, for he was at
his best with simple folk, whose lingo he could understand about as much
as they could understand his.
In those hours, Gyp had some real sensations of romance. The sea was so
blue, the rocks and wooded spurs of that Southern coast so dreamy in
the bright land-haze. Oblivious of "the old salt," he would put his arm
round her; out there, she could swallow down her sense of form, and be
grateful for feeling nearer to him in spirit. She made loyal efforts
to understand him in these weeks that were bringing a certain
disillusionment. The elemental part of marriage was not the trouble; if
she did not herself feel passion, she did not resent his. When, after
one of those embraces, his mouth curled with a little bitter smile, as
if to say, "Yes, much you care for me," she would feel compunctious and
yet aggrieved. But the trouble lay deeper--the sense of an insuperable
barrier; and always that deep, instinctive recoil from letting herself
go.
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