"To earn my living, to be sure!" she answered, calmly enough, although the color was rising again on her cheeks.
"But you don't need ever so many scholars to earn your living, do you?" he asked, gaining courage slowly.
"What do you mean?" she returned, forcing herself to look him in the face.
"I mean," he responded, "that I don't see why you couldn't earn your living just as well by having only one scholar—"
"Only one scholar?" she echoed.
"Yes—only one scholar," he declared; "but you could take him for life. And you could teach him everything that was good and true and beautiful—and he would work hard for you, and try and make you happy."
The color ebbed from her cheeks, but she said nothing. The low notes of the organ were dying away, and on the elevated railroad just behind the young couple a train came hissing along wreathed in swirling steam.
"I'm not worthy of you, Edna; I know that only too well; but you can make me ever so much better if you'll only try," he urged. "I love you with my whole heart—that's what I've been trying to say. Will you marry me?"
She raised her eyes to his and simply answered,
"Yes."