Women aren't--aren't always quite themselves--at
times. You--Lilly--could it be--"
"No! No! No! I'll go mad if you, too, begin to insinuate--that! I'm
myself, I tell you. Never more so in my life."
He regarded her through frank and even tender tears, his voice humoring
her.
"Of course, you're high strung, Lilly, and a high-strung woman is like a
high-strung horse, has to be handled lightly. Don't exert yourself.
If--if I'm embarrassing to you--talk to mother. These are the times a
girl needs her mother. You go ahead and pick on me to your heart's
content. I--I'm a pretty slow kind of fellow about some things. Never
been around women enough. Come, it's ten-thirty-six. You need all the
sleep you can get. Come, Lilly. Why--I--I've been thick-headed--that's
all."
She suffered him to kiss her on the cheek as she turned her face from
him.
"Have it your own way," she said, limp with a sudden sense of futility
and as if all the reflex resiliency had oozed out of her.
"We're all right together, Lilly. Just don't you worry your head. We'll
get adjusted in no time. You and--and mother talk things over to-morrow.
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