"I'm—ashamed," she said, irrepressible sobs interrupting her. "It's silly, isn't it—but—but it's hard to KNOW. It's for so long—so LONG!"
"Yes," he said, "that's the best part of it…. I shall have you always."
Always. He should have her always! It was no sentence for a month or a year, but for life. She was tying herself to this boy until death should free her…. She looked at him, and thanked God that he was as he was, young, decent, clean, capable of loving her and cherishing her…. For her sake she was glad it was he, but his very attributes accused her. She was accepting these beautiful gifts and was giving in return spurious wares. For love she would give pretense of love. … Yet if he had been other than he was, if he had been old, seeking her youth as some men might seek it, steeped in experience to satiety as some rich man might have been, she knew she could not have gone through with it. To such a man she could not have given herself—even for the Cause…. Bonbright made his own duping a possibility.
"I—I sha'n't act this way again," she said, trying to smile. "You needn't be afraid…. It's just nerves."
"Poor kid!" he said, softly, but even yet he dared not touch her.
"You want me? You're very, very sure you want me? How do you know? I may not be what you think I am. Maybe I'm different. Are you sure, Bonbright?"
"It's the only thing in the world I am sure of," he said.
"And you'll be good to me?… You'll be patient with me, and gentle?
Oh, I needn't ask. I know you will. I know you're good…."
"I love you," was his reply, and she deemed it a sufficient answer.
"Then," she said, "let's not wait. There's no need to wait, is there?
Can't it be right away?"