“I want to forget what’s already over. I got enough money now to start for myself—maybe a tailor-shop—and soon—I—I want to marry myself—but none of those crazy chickens for me.” And he seemed to draw her unto himself by the intensity of his gaze.
Growing bolder, he exclaimed: “I got a grand idea. It’s Monday and the bank is open yet till nine o’clock. I’ll write over my bank-book on your name? Yes?”
“My name?” She fell back, dumbstruck.
“Yes—you—everything I only got—you—” he mumbled. “I’ll give you dove’s milk to drink—silks and diamonds to wear—you’ll hold all my money.”
She was shaken by this supreme proof of his devotion.
“But I—I can’t—I got to work myself up for a person. I got a head. I got ideas. I can catch on to the Americans quicker’n lightning.”
“My money can buy you everything. I’ll buy you teachers. I’ll buy you a piano. I’ll make you for a lady. Right away you can stop from work.” He leaned toward her, his eyes welling with tears of earnestness.
“Take your hard-earned money? Could I be such a beggerin?”
“God from the world! You are dearer to me than the eyes from my head! I’d give the blood from under my nails for you! I want only to work for you—to live for you—to die for you—” He was spent with the surge of his emotion.
Ach! To be loved as Sam Arkin loved! She covered her eyes, but it only pressed upon her the more. Home, husband, babies, a bread-giver for life!