Anne turned her eyes away. "Yes, Rogie's old enough to leave now and I believe Mrs. Horton would be glad of the place. I would get a salary, I suppose—enough to pay her."
Roger grinned. "You would—most of the time, anyhow. How much would she do it for, do you think?"
"How much would I get?"
"Eighteen or so."
"That would be plenty—more than she would ask. I'll talk it over with her to-morrow. You would really like it?"
"Anne! There's nothing in the world I would like so much. Why I—I—thought lots of times of asking you just that thing."
Remembering his reason for not doing it, Roger, too, looked into the fire, his arms still close about Anne.
But Anne did not press for the reason of his silence. Against the long evening alone with Merle's words singing in her ears—"Wait and see. It'll get him yet"—his hold was strong and full of comfort.
Suddenly Anne gripped him close and kissed him, as she had kissed on the Bluff, her lips seeking fiercely, through his, the thing beyond them both.