File:Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 145 June to November 1922 (1922) (14579093548).jpg

Identifier: harpersnew145various (find matches)
Title: Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 145 June to November 1922
Year: 1922 (1920s)
Authors: various
Subjects:
Publisher: New York: Harper & Brothers Publishers
Contributing Library: Brigham Young University-Idaho, David O. McKay Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Brigham Young University-Idaho

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ne it! With a cool indomi-table will she had set about it. He knewhe could never have achieved this felicityby himself. She had held out her handfor money and he had handed it over toher. If she had not watched he wouldnot have had nearly so much, she toldhim, and he believed her. That was thekey to his mood. He crouched in the stern of his boatand kept his eyes upon the house, awhite spot against the steep brown slopeof mountain. That house, rented froma poverty-stricken Greek who had leftmost of the furniture, and an old womanwho had lived all her life in the village,as servant, represented for Mr. Spokeslyhis entire visible and comprehensiblefuture. This was another key to hismood. It was as though he had suddenlycashed in on all his available resources ofhappiness, hypothecating them for theimmediate and attainable yet romanticpresent. By some fluke of fortune hecould see that he actually held withinhis grasp all that men toil and strugglefor in this world, all that they desire in
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648 HARPERS MONTHLY MAGAZINE youth, all that they remember in age.But he had no certainty of the perma-nence of all this, and he lived in a kindof anxious ecstasy, watching Evanthiaeach day with eager hungry eyes, wait-ing with a sort of incredulous astonish-ment for the first shadow to cross thedark mirror of their lives. As it must, he told himself. Thiscould not last forever. And sometimeshe found himself trying to imagine howit would end. To-night he was pre-occupied with the discovery that eachday, as the end approached, he wasdreading it more and more. He hadtried to explain this to her as they walkedin the garden under the cypresses andlooked across the dark waters of theGulf, and she had smiled and said, Ah,yes! She was still a mystery to him,and that was another grief, since he didnot yet suspect that the mystery of awoman is simply a screen with nothingbehind it. She smiled in her alluringinscrutable way and he held her desper-ately to him, wondering in what formthe fate of

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