As he followed Desire to the tent his orderly
mind was in a tumult. "He doesn't know how wonderful she is!" he
thought. "And she doesn't care whether he does or not. And that
explains--" But he saw in a moment that it didn't explain anything.
It only made the mystery deeper.
"And now, Benis, that we are alone--" began Aunt Caroline. . . .
We may safely leave out several pages here. If you realize Aunt
Caroline at all, you will see that at least so much self-expression
is necessary before anyone else can expect a chance. Time enough to
pick up the thread again when the inevitable has happened and her
exhausted vocabulary is replaced by tears.
"Not that I care at all for my own feelings," wept Aunt Caroline.
"There are others to think of. What will Bainbridge say?"
Her nephew roused himself. From long experience he knew that the
worst was over.
"Bainbridge, my dear Aunt," he said, "will say exactly what you tell
it to say. It was because we realized this that we decided to leave
the whole matter in your hands--all the announcing and things. But
of course," with resignation, "if we have taken too much for
granted; if you are not equal to it, we had better not come back to
Bainbridge at all."
"Oh," cried Aunt Caroline with fresh tears. "My poor boy! The very
idea! To think that I should live to hear you say it! How gladly I
would have saved you from this had I known in time."
"I am sure you would, Aunt. But the gladness would have been all
yours.
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