Had I
been pure white you would not have been so sure, you would have asked,
not offered. I am not obliged to you. You ought to go to no woman as
you came to me. See, the storm has stopped. You will be quite safe
going back now. The snow will be deep, perhaps, but it is not far."
She went to the window, got his cap and gloves, and handed them to him.
He took them, dumbfounded and overcome.
"Say, I ain't done it right, mebbe, but I meant well, and I'd be good to
you and proud of you, and I'd love you better than anything I ever saw,"
he said shamefacedly, but eagerly and honestly too.
"Ah, you should have said those last words first," she answered.
"I say them now."
"They come too late; but they would have been too late in any case," she
added. "Still, I am glad you said them."
She opened the door for him.
"I made a mistake," he urged humbly. "I understand better now. I never
had any schoolin'."
"Oh, it isn't that," she answered gently. "Goodbye."
Suddenly he turned. "You're right--it couldn't ever be," he said.
"You're--you're great.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71