Detroit Red Wings vs. Minnesota Wild Tickets on April 1, 2016 at Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, Michigan For Sale

Detroit Red Wings vs. Minnesota Wild Tickets
Joe Louis Arena
Detroit, Michigan
April 1, xxxx
talk about it quietly, Bartley, as if I were a friend, and not some one who had to be defied?" He dropped back heavily into his chair by the fire. "It was myself I was defying, Hilda. I have thought about it until I am worn out." He looked at her and his haggard face softened. He put out his hand toward her as he looked away again into the fire. She crept across to him, drawing her stool after her. "When did you first begin to feel like this, Bartley?" "After the very first. The first was-- sort of in play, wasn't it?" Hilda's face quivered, but she whispered: "Yes, I think it must have been. But why didn't you tell me when you were here in the summer?" Alexander groaned. "I meant to, but somehow I couldn't. We had only a few days, and your new play was just on, and you were so happy." "Yes, I was happy, wasn't I?" She pressed his hand gently in gratitude. "Weren't you happy then, at all?" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if to draw in again the fragrance of those days. Something of their troubling sweetness came back to Alexander, too. He moved uneasily and his chair creaked. "Yes, I was then. You know. But afterward. . ." "Yes, yes," she hurried, pulling her hand gently away from him. Presently it stole back to his coat sleeve. "Please tell me one thing, Bartley. At least, tell me that you believe I thought I was making you happy." His hand shut down quickly over the questioning fingers on his sleeves. "Yes, Hilda; I know that," he said simply. She leaned her head against his arm and spoke softly:-- "You see, my mistake was in wanting
you to have everything. I wanted you to eat all the cakes and have them, too. I somehow believed that I could take all the bad consequences for you. I wanted you always to be happy and handsome and successful--to have all the things that a great man ought to have, and, once in a way, the careless holidays that great men are not permitted." Bartley gave a bitter little laugh, and Hilda looked up and read in the deepening lines of his face that youth and Bartley would not much longer struggle together. "I understand, Bartley. I was wrong. But I didn't know. You've only to tell me now. What must I do that I've not done, or what must I not do?" She listened intently, but she heard nothing but the creaking of his chair. "You want me to say it?" she whispered. "You want to tell me that you can only see me like this, as old friends do, or out in the world among people? I can do that." "I can't," he said heavily. Hilda shivered and sat still. Bartley leaned his head in his hands and spoke through his teeth. "It's got to be a clean break, Hilda. I can't see you at all, anywhere. What I mean is that I want you to promise never to see me again, no matter how often I come, no matter how hard I beg." Hilda sprang up like a flame. She stood over him with her hands clenched at her side, her body rigid. "No!" she gasped. "It's too late to ask that. Do you hear me, Bartley? It's too late. I won't promise. It's abominable of you to ask me. Keep away if you wish; when have I ever followed you? But, if you come to me, I'll do as I see fit. The shamefulness of your asking