Sign in with Facebook
Fourteen Stories Quotes
Fourteen Stories
by
Pearl S. Buck99 ratings, 3.72 average rating, 17 reviews
Fourteen Stories Quotes
Showing 1-1 of 1
“Please take me home," she said.
He turned the car and drove at a swift speed back over
the silent road. And in silence they sat side by side, he in sorrow and she in hidden anger. Why, oh, why had she not spoken quickly and fended off this blow? For it would always be a blow, she could never forget that it was she who had somehow lost his love, and when love came again, she would always take it uneasily, fearful of some lack in herself be cause Lew had ceased to love her. True, she did not love him, but that was not the same. It was not at all the same when a woman refused a man. It did him no harm, at least not for long. But as long as a woman lived she could not for get. Forever there could be no friendship between Lew and her, because when she saw him she would always remember and the wound would bleed, not for love but for pride.
"I shall always hate myself," he muttered in the darkness.
Still she did not reply. Let him hate himself. Let him always remember that he had done a hateful deed. Oh, he had the right to do it, they weren't living in yesterday, but it was strange how the old conventions held. There had been justice as well as mercy in the idea that a man must never be the one to break the bond of betrothal. He must contrive as a gentleman to let her do it. He must save her whole, because she had so little else except love and pride. The rest of the world was his, and was still his, she thought passionately, in spite of this most modem year.” ~ The Engagement”
― Fourteen Stories
He turned the car and drove at a swift speed back over
the silent road. And in silence they sat side by side, he in sorrow and she in hidden anger. Why, oh, why had she not spoken quickly and fended off this blow? For it would always be a blow, she could never forget that it was she who had somehow lost his love, and when love came again, she would always take it uneasily, fearful of some lack in herself be cause Lew had ceased to love her. True, she did not love him, but that was not the same. It was not at all the same when a woman refused a man. It did him no harm, at least not for long. But as long as a woman lived she could not for get. Forever there could be no friendship between Lew and her, because when she saw him she would always remember and the wound would bleed, not for love but for pride.
"I shall always hate myself," he muttered in the darkness.
Still she did not reply. Let him hate himself. Let him always remember that he had done a hateful deed. Oh, he had the right to do it, they weren't living in yesterday, but it was strange how the old conventions held. There had been justice as well as mercy in the idea that a man must never be the one to break the bond of betrothal. He must contrive as a gentleman to let her do it. He must save her whole, because she had so little else except love and pride. The rest of the world was his, and was still his, she thought passionately, in spite of this most modem year.” ~ The Engagement”
― Fourteen Stories
