``That's your charm--one
of them.''
``Mildred, do you still care?''
``How did you know?'' inquired she mockingly.
``You didn't try to conceal it. I'd not have ventured
to say and do the things I said and did if I hadn't felt
that we cared for each other. But, so long as you were
leading that fatuous life and dreaming those foolish
dreams, I knew we could never be happy.''
``That is true--oh, SO true,'' replied she.
``But now--you have tried, and that has made a
woman of you. And you have failed, and that has
made you ready to be a wife--to be happy in the quiet,
private ways.''
She was silent.
``I can make enough for us both--as much as we
will need or want--as much as you please, if you aren't
too extravagant. And I can do it easily. It's making
little sums--a small income--that's hard in this ridiculous
world. Let's marry, go to California or Europe
for several months, then come back here and live like
human beings.''
She was silent. Block after block they walked along,
as if neither had anything especial in mind, anything
worth the trouble of speech.
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