There was no
understanding the minds of women, he conceded in despair. Or of men.
He could only be what he was, and hope this self-honesty would bring him
to his proper place in the end.
AND IF IT DIDN'T?
Coming out of the ragged confusion of earth and stone onto a tranquil
stretch of beach, he stripped off his outer garments and began to wade
out into the waves, stooping to wash away both grime and fatigue. The
water was not warm, and perhaps there were lurking dangers---
'I don't care!' he cried in answer, the torrent of his anger
returning with sudden force. He dove and swam out into deeper waters,
while the cub remained on shore and barked at him.
Slowly, fighting the undertow, he made his way back to solid ground. OR
AS SOLID AS I'M LIKELY TO FIND, he thought bitterly. Emerging truly
exhausted, he fell to his knees, then sorrowfully held and reassured his
unspeaking friend.
He lay down in the sand like an animal. And slept.
Chapter 42
That night, wrapped in the tragicomedy of human pride and affection,
none of the three found peace.
For Sylviana the evening seemed endless, trying to drag conversation
from the tired and otherwise absorbed company. And when hard night fell
at last she found she could not sleep.
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