Two men and two women, two kinds of love--the love that is quiet and enduring and the love that is turbulent and temporary. The scene is laid altogether in America in a town with conditions that are typical of places where later generations of families who have started as equals find themselves at opposite ends of the social scale.
just yet--though I can do a little--but by and by, perhaps--when I know more exactly what the trouble is--"
"You can't know it better than I can tell you now. It's just this--that I've all I can do to keep from stealing down to Thorley's Pond, when no one's looking, and throwing myself in. What do you think of that?"
"I think you won't do it," he smiled, "but I wouldn't play with the idea if I were you."
"Look here," she cried, seizing him by the arm and pulling him out of his chair. "Look out of that window." He followed the pointing of her finger to a high bluff covered with oaks, to which the withered brown foliage still clung, though other trees were bare. "That's Duck Rock. Well, there's a spot there where the water's thirty foot deep. What do you think of that?"
He moved back from the window, but remained standing. "I think that it doesn't matter to you and me whether it's thirty foot deep or sixty or a hundred."
"It matters to me. In thirty foot of water I'd go down