The Nest Builder by Beatrice Forbes-Robertson Hale
page 47 of 379 (12%)
page 47 of 379 (12%)
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"Well, then, where's the difficulty?" exultingly. She could not answer--could hardly formulate the answer to herself. Deep in her being she seemed to feel an urge toward waiting, toward preparation, toward the collection of she knew not what small household gods. It was as if she wished to make fair a place to receive her sacrament of love. But this she could not express, could not speak to him of the vision of the tiny hand. "You're brave, Mary. Your courage was one of the things I most loved in you. Let's be brave together!" His smile was irresistibly happy. She could not bear that he should doubt her courage, and she wanted passionately not to take that smile from his face. She began to weaken. "Mary," he cried, fired by the instinct to make the courage of their mating artistically perfect. "I've told you about my pictures. I know they are good--I know I can sell them in New York. But let's not wait for that. Let's bind ourselves together before we put our fortunes to the touch! Then we shall be one, whatever happens. We shall have that." He kissed her, seeing her half won. "You've got five hundred dollars, I've only got fifty, but the pictures are worth thousands," he went on rapidly. "We can have a wonderful week in the country somewhere, and have plenty left to live on while I'm negotiating the sale. Even at the worst," he exulted, "I'm strong. I can work at anything--with you! I don't mind asking you to spend your money, sweetheart, because I _know_ my things are worth it five times over." |
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