Then she asked what a woman always asks.
"Why didn't you ever write to me, Gil?"
"I was waiting for some good news to tell you. I felt you would consider me a failure—a rank failure. I couldn't have stood that. Women don't know how proud men are about that."
"Maybe we don't—and maybe we do, Gil." She went closer to him. "Why don't you marry?" she dared to inquire.
He was startled. "Marry?" he repeated.
"Yes; you need someone to take care of you—someone to look after your daily needs—every man does."
"I guess there's no doubt about that. But it ought to be a guardian in my case; or maybe a keeper." She could see that he was stalling for time, and trying to laugh off a topic that was serious indeed to him.
"We're such old friends, Gil," she said, looking at his handsome face. "I don't like to go—to think of you always, like this—alone."
"I still have uncle," he reminded her.