''
``Minding my own business is my one supreme talent,''
said Cyrilla.
``She hasn't accepted me--in so many words,'' pursued
Baird, ``but I've hopes that it'll come out all
right.''
``Naturally,'' commented Cyrilla dryly.
``I know I'm not--not objectionable to her. And
how I do love her!'' He settled himself at his ease.
``I can't believe it's really me. I never thought I'd
marry--just for love. Did you?''
``You're very self-indulgent,'' said Cyrilla.
``You mean I'm marrying her because I can't get
her any other way. There's where you're wrong, Mrs.
Brindley. I'm marrying her because I don't want her
any other way. That's why I know it's love. I didn't
think I was capable of it. Of course, I've been rather
strong after the ladies all my life. You know how it
is with men.''
``I do,'' said Mrs. Brindley.
``No, you don't either,'' retorted he. ``You're one
of those cold, stand-me-off women who can't comprehend
the nature of man.''
``As you please,'' said she. In her eyes there was a
gleam that more than suggested a possibility of some
man--some man she might fancy--seeing an amazingly
different Cyrilla Brindley.
Pages:
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372