"I had no idea I was marrying a millionaire."
"Never you mind, my girl, you shan't live in a shack long, I promise you. It's the greatest country in the world. We only want three good crops and you shall have a brick house same as you lived in back home."
"I wonder what they're doing in England now."
"Well, I guess they're asleep."
"When I think of England I always think of it at tea time," began Nora, and then stopped short.
A wave of regret caught her throat. In spite of herself, the tears filled her eyes. She looked miserably at the cheap, ugly tea things on the makeshift table before her. Her husband watched her gravely. Presently she went on, more to herself than to him:
"Miss Wickham had a beautiful old silver teapot, a George Second. She was awfully proud of it. And she was proud of her tea-set; it was old Worcester. And she wouldn't let anyone wash the tea things but——" Again, her voice failed her. "And two or three times a week an old Indian judge came in to tea. And he used to talk to me about the East, the wonderful, beautiful East. He made me long to see it all—I who had never been anywhere. I've always loved history and books of travel more than anything else. There are a lot of them there in my box—that's what makes it so heavy—all about the beautiful places I was going to see later on with the money Miss Wickham promised me——" her glance took in the mean little room in all its unrelieved ugliness. "Oh, why did you make me think of it all?"
She bowed her head on the table for a moment. Taylor laid his hand gently on her arm.
"The past is dead and gone, my girl. We've got the future; it's ours."
She gently disengaged herself from his detaining hand and went over to the little window, looking out with eyes that saw other pictures than the window had to show.