"Marry? No, no, you wouldn't--you couldn't really be thinking of that,"
she babbled, growing red and white by turns. "Only think how a wife
would--would b-bother you!"
"Bother me? When I loved her?"
"But just think--remember! She'd want cushions and rugs and curtains,
and you don't like them; and she'd always be talking and laughing when
you wanted quiet; and she--she'd want to drag you out to plays and
parties and--and everywhere. Indeed, Cyril, I'm sure you'd never like a
wife--long!" Billy stopped only because she had no breath with which to
continue.
Cyril laughed a little grimly.
"You don't draw a very attractive picture, Billy. Still, I'm not afraid.
I don't think this particular--wife would do any of those things--to
trouble me."
"Oh, but you don't know, you can't tell," argued the girl. "Besides, you
have had so little experience with women that you'd just be sure to
make a mistake at first. You want to look around very carefully--very
carefully, before you decide."
"I have looked around, and very carefully, Billy. I know that in all the
world there is just one woman for me."
Billy struggled to her feet. Mingled pain and terror looked from her
eyes. She began to speak wildly, incoherently. She wondered afterward
just what she would have said if Aunt Hannah had not come into the room
at that moment and announced that Bertram was at the door to take her
for a sleigh-ride if she cared to go.
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