“I never thought that I was good enough.”
“Good enough! You’re a thousand times too good. That’s what worries me, Mamie.”
“I—I thought maybe, after you were married, you—you’d let me keep house for you, or something of that sort, so that I could see you—”
“I won’t listen!” cried Allan, and stopped her lips.
“Oh, but you must,” she said, freeing herself, “because I want you to know. I would have been quite happy doing that.”
“Poor little Cinderella!”
“But the Prince has come, and the slipper fits. I shall always believe in fairy tales, after this,” she added, her eyes shining, “because I know one that’s come true.”
They were silent for a moment, too full of their new happiness for any need of words. Then she snuggled her cheek close to his.
“When did you begin to love me, Allan?” she whispered, shyly.
“That day when I picked you up from in front of the locomotive.”