Sweet Mary, He Had Said He Never Wrote

He confessed that he could not love her because he already loved his wife and children. And anyhow, he said, you are too young and innocent. Two summers passed. Devils pokers flowered for two seasons. Thistle seed blew white in the harsh mountain wind. She had a feeling that he would come some time, and a gnawing fear that he might not. They were hard people, and it was only when some one died that they could give in to sentiment or crying. The rhythm of their lives never changed. By morning, ten o'clock, doris said, listening to the chimes of the landing clock.