‘There’s one or two things you’ve got to know, Nellie. I’ll never be other than I am. I’ve had to face it—I’ve no ambition. All I want is to stay put, in the same job; to know that I’m safe. Yesterday I thought I wouldn’t mind changing, but I would. What’s more, I’m like all them back in seventy-one…I’m ignorant. I could never keep up with you, or go to your Literary Societies and things.’
‘Oh!’ Her voice cracked on the exclamation, cutting off his flow, and her great brown eyes sent the tears flooding over her face. Yet in the same instant she threw back her head and laughed. ‘Literary Societies!’ Then moving only one step towards him, she whispered across the distance, ‘I want you to stay put, never to change…never…your outlook, or your furniture, or anything about you, ever.’
For a moment she became lost to his sight.
‘Don’t you want me, Rooney?’
The last words brought her into focus again. She was only a few steps away from him now. There she stood, like a young girl, her white face even whiter and her eyes even larger. His throat swelling, his heart pounding, he thrust out his arms, and pulled her against him. And as she smothered her crying in his shoulder an uplifting feeling of wonderment filled him, and her words came back to him: ‘What are we here for? What does it all mean?’ Well, he knew now.
The End
Rooney Page 22