"Good Lord, it does seem far--farther than it did in the beginning. I
used to be thinking of it all the time then, and how I'd get to work
the first moment we arrived. And now I don't care what it's like or
think of what I'm going to do. All I want to get there for is to stop
this eternal traveling and rest."
She, too, craved rest, but of the spirit. Her outlook was blacker than
his, for it offered none and drew together to a point where her
tribulations focused in a final act of self-immolation. There was a
pause, and he said, drowsiness now plain in his voice:
"But we'll be there some day unless we die on the road, and then we can
take it easy. The first thing I'm going to do is to get a mattress to
sleep on. No more blankets on the ground for me. Do you ever think
what it'll be like to sleep in a room again under a roof, a good,
waterproof roof, that the sun and the rain can't come through? The way
I feel now that's my idea of Paradise."
She murmured a low response, her thoughts far from the flesh pots of
his wearied longing.
"I think just at this moment," he went on dreamily, "I'd rather have a
good sleep and a good meal than anything else in the world.
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