"I've been through it. You wait and see."
She was not like Merle. Roger was not like Black Tom. And yet——
It was after twelve when Roger came.
"Why, Anne!"
Anne lifted her face. Her lips trembled.
Roger came quickly to her in real concern. "You haven't been sitting here alone worrying, have you? I didn't mean to be harsh."
Anne clung to him. "Roger," she whispered, "I don't want to grow apart."
"Neither do I." Roger stroked her hair, the old tenderness moving him. "And since neither of us do," he said after a moment, with a smile, "I guess we won't."
Anne answered his smile weakly. "Roger, I don't believe it is right just to sit up here keeping the 'house like a jewel-box' and looking after Rogie. I'm going to work."