"When do you think of starting for the Adirondacks?" he asked,
with a timidity of preliminary swallowing and blushing that made
her turn away her face to hide her smile. How completely hers was
the situation! She felt the first triumphant thrill of her new
estate.
"To-night," she replied. "We can't put it off."
"No, we can't put it off," assented he, hesitation in his voice,
gloom upon his brow. "Though," he added, "you don't look at all
well." With an effort: "Margaret, are you glad--or sorry?"
"Glad," she answered in a firm, resolute tone. It became a little
hard in its practicality as she added: "You were quite right. We
took the only course."
"You asked me to be a little patient with you," he went on.
She trembled; her glance fluttered down.
"Well--I--I--you'll have to be a little patient with me, too." He
was red with embarrassment. She looked so still and cold and
repelling that he could hardly muster voice to go on: "You can't
but know, in a general sort of way, that I'm uncouth, unaccustomed
to the sort of thing you've had all your life. I'm going to do my
best, Margaret. And if you'll help me, and be a little forbearing,
I think--I hope--you'll soon find I'm--I'm--oh, you understand.
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