With these useful and varied accomplishments I have decided to return to the Cove. My modest ambition now is to get out of the way, and the safest plan is to keep out of the current.
You will probably be a Benedick by the time I return. My heartiest congratulations to you and Miss Guinevere. Words cannot thank either of you for what you have done for me. All I can say is that I have tried to be worthy of your friendship.
What’s left of me is
Yours,
Willard Hinton.”
Mr. Opp avoided looking at her as he folded the sheets and put them back in the envelop. The goal was bright before his eyes, but quicksands dragged at his feet.
“And he will find us married, won’t he, Miss Guin-never? You’ll be ready just as soon as I and your mother come to a understanding, won’t you? Why, it seems more like eleven years than [p274] eleven months since you and me saw that sunset on the river! There hasn’t been a day since, you might say, that hasn’t been occupied with you. All I ask for in the world is just the chance for the rest of my life of trying to make you happy. You believe that, don’t you, Miss Guin-never?”
“Yes,” she said miserably, gazing out at the little arbor Hinton had made for her beneath the trees.
“Well, I’ll stop by this evening after the meeting, if it ain’t too late,” said Mr. Opp. “You’ll—you’ll be—glad if everything culminates satisfactory, won’t you?”
“I’m glad of everything good that comes to you,” said Guinevere so earnestly that Mr. Opp, who had lived on a diet of crumbs all his life, looked at her gratefully, and went back to the office assuring himself that all would be well.