Explore "Queer Judson" by Joseph C. Lincoln on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The shadows of the beach plum bushes and pines were long and the chill of the September evening was upon them before they rose from the hollow behind the dune and began their walk back to the village. It was Emily, of course, who first remembered that the scheme of creation contained such an element as time. Carey had forgotten it altogether. His state of mind was far removed from all practical considerations. He was still, apparently, not quite certain that his sudden transition from the depths to the heights was actual and not imaginary and he broke off in the middle of more than one flight into the rainbowed future to announce that it just couldn't be, happiness like this belonged to the other fellow, not to him.
-"You see," he said, apologetically, "I have been dodging brickbats so long that I--well, I guess I duck my head as a matter of habit. You are sure, Emily, that--that you really do care enough for me to--to--by Jove, I don't see how you can! You shouldn't, of course."