"
"You could if you were with me every minute. I'd rather be with you than
most people. But the minute I'm away from you I get dragged."
"Well, why shouldn't I stop with you the whole time, never leave you a
minute? Let's be married, and then I could."
She looked at him anxiously. There was not a glimmer of shyness or
excitement about her. She was still in her dream world; she knew that
marriage would keep them together always. So she suggested marriage. She
was not, yet, consciously in love.
He stared at her, stammered a little as he tried to speak and then,
suddenly sobered, snatched at her hand.
"Do you mean it, knowing what I am? I'm an awful waster,
Marcella--there's nothing on earth I can do for a living."
She frowned a little.
"But that's nothing to do with it. We'll find some way of living. You
know that. We'd have to if we were not married, wouldn't we? And stop
all this about being a waster. You're not anything of the sort. You're
not anything but what you're going to be."
"And you really, really, won't go back on it? I make so many promises
and break them. I can't believe other people much."
"Of course I won't go back on it. I want to stay with you. I never want
to be with anyone else at all on earth."
"But why?" he asked, humble for the first time in his life.
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