He'll love all the pretty things
in it. Perhaps you'd run him up in the motor presently, while I stay with
the little girl and that nice woman?"
And then all at once he took a step forward and roughly took her two
hands in his: "Betty," he said, "don't you understand? I shall never
enter this house again unless you're willing to come and share it with
me. No place would be home to me without you in it. Why, Old Place is
only home now because you're there."
She looked at him with a long, searching, measuring look; a look that
was, unconsciously, full of questioning; but her hands remained in his
strong grasp.
"Don't you know that I've always been yours?" he asked--"that I shall
always be yours even if you won't have me--even if I end by marrying
another woman, as I daresay I shall do if you won't have me, for I'm a
lonely chap--" And then something in her face made him add: "Try to love
me again, Betty. I want you to say to yourself--'a poor thing but mine
own.' Do, my dear."
And then Betty burst out crying, and found herself clasped in his arms,
strained to his heart, while his lips sought and found her soft,
tremulous mouth.
He was gentle with her, gentle and strangely restrained.
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