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"Before I m-marry you I must be quite certain that you take no risk " She looked up into his steady eyes; a passion of tenderness overwhelmed her, and her locked arms tightened around his neck. "Oh," she whispered, "you are the boy I loved so long, so long ago my comrade Duane my own little boy! How was I to know I loved you this way, too? How could I understand!"
Strangest of all, most hopeful of all, his own mind was working, though his soul rocked with passion. "Cynthy ever since we stopped that day on the road in Northcutt's woods, I've thought of nothin' but to marry you m-marry you.
She had come to him for it and he must give her the best he had. "Dad," she began, a little tremulously, "would you mind so very much if I should m-marry and live in Europe? Of course," she added, hastily, to break the force of the blow, "you would come over very often and stay with us, and we would go over very often to see you." "So he has spoken to you, has he?" laughed her father.
But he let Her take him into Her arms. "I wanted to do it!" he sobbed, desolately, his secret out at last. "Do it? Do what, Reggie?" "M-marry you. I was goin' to do it. H-He hadn't any right to! I hate him I hate him!" A minute there was silence, except for the soft creak of Her dress as She rocked him. Then She lifted his wet little face to Hers. "Reggie," She whispered, "how would a mother do?"
To his slower mentality she was like a humming-bird darting about from flower to flower, yet ever evading him. "M-maybe yer think I ain't in e-e-earnest?" he persisted, doggedly. "M-maybe yer imagine I d-did n't m-m-mean what I s-said when I asked yer ter m-marry me?"
Strangest of all, most hopeful of all, his own mind was working, though his soul rocked with passion. "Cynthy ever since we stopped that day on the road in Northcutt's woods, I've thought of nothin' but to marry you m-marry you.
Besides, I g-got the worst of it. I'd rather die young or be hanged, any day, than to m-marry Sid Gray." Aunt Melvy followed them to the door, shaking her head. "I'se gwine make you chillun some good-luck bags. De fust time de new moon holds water I'se sholy gwine fix 'em. 'T ain't safe not to mind de signs; 't ain't safe."
If not, why should he tie that Frenchman? . . . And wouldn't he t-tie twenty Frenchmen if he w-wanted to m-marry you!" Hermione stooped and fondled the girl's shoulders, for Marcelle had collapsed to her knees on the hearth-rug while her mistress was using the telephone. "You have been my very good friend, Marcelle," she said, and the misery in her voice subjugated the maid's louder grief.
Strangest of all, most hopeful of all, his own mind was working, though his soul rocked with passion. "Cynthy ever since we stopped that day on the road in Northcutt's woods, I've thought of nothin' but to marry you m-marry you.
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