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Rh you, I am certain. This isn't the only talk Alec and I have had about you. I wanted to speak to you about this last fall, but Al thought it better to wait. And I wanted to speak again after—the sofa-pillow, and again Al couldn't quite make up his mind that you had grown up, and wanted me to wait again. So I did. You see," he smiled, "it isn't a new idea with me."

I listened calmly as Dr. Maynard went on talking in his quiet, unexcited manner. I didn't interrupt his long, well-planned speech. I simply sat dumb with my hands clasped tightly in my lap. I don't remember that I felt a single sensation during the entire explanation except at the end a kind of shock as I thought to myself: "So after all it's going to be just Dr. Maynard!" For when he had finally finished, I said evenly, with the moon standing there like a clergyman before us, and all the watching stars like witnesses behind, "I will come, Dr. Maynard," and I added, "and I think you are the very kindest man I know." For you see he had offered me his home, his protection, and his love, he said, for all my life.

There was something awfully silent and ominous about the gentle still way he turned the machine around and started for home. It was entirely different from what I had guessed might take place. In the dreams that I had woven I had never accepted Dr. Maynard. I had been grateful for his devotion, honoured by his proposal, deeply sorry for his disappointment, but like the girl in an old play called "Rosemary," my heart belonged to one who possessed youth and passion. In those absurd imaginings of mine I used to frame letters which I should write to Juliet