"Some day," she exulted, "some day God will turn his fraternal affection into the wine of love."
"I'm so nervous," she said, "that I must either laugh or cry. What a plight we are in! How shall we go forward or backward?"
"We shall not do either very soon. Mrs. Hobson is making you a cup of tea, and then you must rest thoroughly, and sleep, if possible."
"What will you do?"
"Oh, I'll soothe my nerves with a cigar, and berate myself on the porch! When you are thoroughly rested I'll have Mr. Hobson drive us on to the nearest station. We are in no plight whatever, if you received no harm."
"I haven't. Promise me one thing."
"Anything—everything."
"Do no berating. I'm sorry you killed the horse; but he did act vilely, and I suppose you had to let off your anger in some way. I was angry myself at first—he was so stupid. But when I found I couldn't hold him at all I thought I must die—Oh, how it all comes back to me! What thoughts I had, and how sweet life became! Oh, oh—" and she began sobbing like a child.
"Madge, please—I can't endure this, indeed I can't."
But her overwrought nerves were not easily controlled, and he knelt beside her, speaking soothingly and pleadingly. "Dear Madge, dear sister Madge. Oh, I wish Mary was here!" and he kissed her again and again.