"I suppose parting's always rather painful," she said with just the beginning of a little smile creeping round the corners of her lips.
"If you go back—when you go back," he corrected himself, "to the old country, I guess—I guess you'll never want to come back."
"Perhaps you'll come over to England yourself, one of these days. If you only have a couple of good years, you could easily shut up the place and run over for the winter," she said shyly.
"I guess that would be a dangerous experiment. You'll be a lady in England. I guess I'd still be only the hired man."
"You'd be my husband."
"N-o-o-o," he said, with a shake of the head. "I guess I wouldn't chance it."
She tried another way. She was sure of her happiness now; she could play with it a little longer.
"You'll write to me now and then, and tell me how you're getting on, won't you?"
"Will you care to know?" he asked quickly.
"Why, yes, of course I shall."