Read Online Earth and High Heaven by Gwethalyn Graham - Free Book Online

neither beginning nor end, and when she woke up, she was still hurrying along the corridor, with a sense of oppression which was so strong that it often stayed with her half the morning.
    Sitting on the arm of a chair in her father’s study she wondered why the mere suggestion that she should go into the family business had been enough to bring back that unpleasantly familiar sensation of something closing in on her, unless it was simply that, like the corridor, there would be no exit from Drakes’ except a door which it would take her forever to reach. The job would be permanent; after all, that was the whole idea. Once there, she would have to stay, and the only way of getting out would be for her to marry someone, and even that possibility would become increasingly remote as time went on. Her father would dominate her life; she would not only be living in his house but working in his office, and at some point, that domination would begin to take effect, probably without her even realizing it. It is all very well to view a situation from a distance and vow to remain detached, but when you are actually in the middle of that situation, detachment is not so easy. Your point of view and your scale of values alter without your being aware of it. Between her father’s opposition — and influence — on the one hand, and her own sense of responsibility to him and to her job, on the other, marriage would not stand much of a chance.
    â€œDon’t you like the idea, Eric?”
    She glanced at him, then got up suddenly from the arm of the chair and went over to the window. There was an apple tree in the sloping garden next door, and as she looked at it, she remembered Marc and felt free again. The tree was in full blossom and half of it was white against the bluish haze of the city below and half of it was gold against the setting sun. The apple tree, the singing and the gold ...
    â€œYou and I have always got along so well together ...”
    She could not bear the sudden drop in his voice and she said quickly, turning back to the room and the dark, heavy figure in the chair in the corner, “It isn’t you, darling,” remembering that in spite of all his dogged, rather touching efforts — though Tony had never made much effort! — he and his son had never got along well together. “I wouldn’t be any good at it, Charles,” she said desperately.
    â€œYes, you would. You’re good at everything you really put your mind to.” He shifted a little in his chair and added, smiling at her affectionately, “Anyhow, I’m glad it isn’t just me.”
    The smile did not quite hide his disappointment and she said, hoping that if he understood it, he would not mind so much, “There’s something too final about going into a family business, particularly when it’s been the family business for four generations. Dash it, Charles, I’d have the feeling that I was going to join my ancestors! People are always coming and going on the Post , I couldn’t be stuck there for the rest of my life even if I wanted to, but Drakes’ ...”
    She shook her head and said, “I don’t want to end up with rum and molasses instead of a husband and children!”
    â€œWell ...”
    â€œAfter all, I’m only twenty-eight!”
    â€œIt depends on the husband.” He relit his pipe and went on, puffing, “You can be a lot surer that you’re not getting married in order to escape from a more or less unsatisfactory set-up, if you’ve got a really good job that’s going to lead somewhere, than if you’ve got the kind of job that leads nowhere.”
    She said incredulously, “Do you really imagine that I’d marry anybody for a mealticket?”
    â€œNot anybody,” he said, flicking a dead match across the carpet and into a wastebasket standing beside his desk. “And not for a mealticket, but as you’ve just