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Show "And small people love big s u b s t a n t i a l ones," he laughed. "Oh, yes, I do." "We," he announced, "belong together." He loved her completely, for he saw in her the perfect complement to himself: where he was bright and lucky, she was still, solitary, as if attuned to some deeper knowledge he did not have. He did not know grief; she did. Without her, he seemed shallow, incapable of any meaningful action; she would bring to him that depth of soul he did not himself seem to have. "We belong together," he said again, "forever." "Forever," she replied. She had known grief, it was true, but now she saw her life begin anew: she would spend it with a man to whom life brought unquestioned joy. His laugh, formed in a million brilliant wrinkles, would be hers forever, and would bring her to laughter too. And so it came to marrying. They found the rituals of announced bethro-thal somehow odious -- and, besides, they feared his family might object to her erratic, orphaned background -- so they married at once, to have all that behind them. "I do," they said breathless before a judge. But in their haste, he had failed to tell her something he thought she should know. She did not think to ask. When at last he remembered, he did not wish to spoil her happiness, and so he said nothing; it would take time and trust before she would understand. That would come, he was sure, with the full bloom of love; but the wedding came first. * * * * * |
