he sky
to make us happy."

A pause, then he: "I can see them now." But soon he moved to rise. "It
frightens me to be as happy as I am this evening. I must go, dear. We're
getting bolder and bolder. First thing you know, your brother will be
suspecting--and that means your mother."

"I don't seem to care any more," replied the girl. "Mother is really in
much better health, and has got pretty well prepared to expect almost
anything from me. She has become resigned to me as a 'working person.'
Then, too, I'm thoroughly inoculated with the habit of doing as I please.
I guess that's from being independent and having my own money. What a
good thing money is!"

"So long as it means independence," suggested Lorry; "but not after it
means dependence."

But Estelle was thinking of their future. The delay, the seemingly
endless delay, made her even more impatient than it made him, as is
always the case where the woman is really in love. In the man love holds
the impetuosity of passion in leash; in the woman it rouses the deeper,
the more enduring force of the maternal instinct--not merely the
unconscious or, at most, half-conscious longing for the children that are
to be, but the desire to do for the man--to look after his health, his
physical comfort, to watch over and protect him; for, to the woman in
love, the man seems in those humble ways less strong than she--a helpless
creature, dependent on her. "It's going to be much harder to wait," said
she, "now that you are superintendent and I have bought out Mrs.
Hastings's share of my business."

They both laughed, but Lorry said: "It's no joke. A little too much money
has made fools of as wise people as we are--many and many's the time."

"Not as wise a person as you are, and as you'll always make me be, or
seem to be," replied Estelle.

Lorry pressed his big hand over hers for an instant. "Now that I've left
off real work," said he, "I'll soon be able to take your hand without
giving you a rough reminder of the difference between us."

He held out his hands, palms upward. They were certainly not soft and
smooth, but they more than made up in look of use and strength what they
lacked in smoothness. She put her small hands one on either side of his,
and they both thrilled with the keen pleasure the touch of edge of hand
against edge of hand gave them. In the ends of her fingers were the marks
of her needlework. He bent and kissed those slightly roughened finger
ends passi