Marley paused to kiss the lips for their loyalty, and he compromised the validity of his own argument by saying:
“As a matter of fact, the law, in America and in England, has given more men to literature than journalism ever has.”
“Then maybe you can enter literature through the law,” said Lavinia, seizing her advantage.
“No,” said Marley, shaking his head. “I’m not cut out for it, as Weston is. Some day he will be a great man, and we shall be proud to have known him so intimately. And we will have him at our home; I have many a dream about that.”
He looked fondly at her, and her eyes brightened.
“And there is another reason why I want to get out of newspaper work,” he went on, speaking tenderly, “and that is because everybody says a newspaper man has no more right to be married than a soldier has.”
“But they all are,” said Lavinia.
“Yes, they all are, or most of them.”
“And I suppose it is the married ones who say that.”
“Well, I know one who is going to be married just as soon as he can.”