Not to care about anything at all
was not to have anything at all to worry about. Certain philosophies
were based upon this state of mind. In part, Monte's own philosophy
was so based. If not to care too much were well, then not to care at
all should be better. It should leave one utterly and sublimely free.
But should it also leave one utterly miserable?

There was something inconsistent in that--something unfair. To be
free, and yet to feel like a prisoner bound and gagged; not to care,
and yet to feel one's vitals eaten with caring; to obtain one's
objective, and then to be marooned there like a forsaken sailor on a
desert island--this was unjust.

Ah, but she did care! It was as if some portion of her refused
absolutely to obey her will in this matter. In silence she might
declare her determination not to care, or through tense lips she might
mutter the same thing in spoken words; but this made no difference.
She was a free agent, to be sure. She had the right to dictate terms
to herself. She had the sole right to be arbiter of her destiny. It
was to that end she had craved freedom. It was for her alone to decide
about what she should care and should not care. She was no longer a
schoolgirl to be controlled by others. She was both judge and jury for
herself, and she had passed sentence to the effect that, since she had
chosen not to care when to care had been her privilege, it was no
longer her privilege to care when she chose to care. Nothing since
then had developed to give her the right to alter that verdict. If
anything, it held truer after Peter's departure than ever. She must
add to her indictment the harm she had done him.

Still, she cared. Staring out of her window upon the quay, she caught
her breath at sight of every new passer-by, in fearful hope that it
might prove to be Monte. She did this when she knew that Monte was
hundreds of miles away. She did this in face of the fact that, if his
coming depended upon her consent, she would have withheld that consent.
If in truth he had suddenly appeared, she would have fled in terror.
He must not come; he should not come--but, O God, if he would come!

[Illustration: "But, O God, if he would come!"]

Sometimes this thought held her for a moment before she realized it.
Then for a space the sun appeared in the blue sky and the birds set up
such a singing as Marie had never heard in all her life. Perhaps for a
step or two she saw him stri