"Naughty, extravagant girl!" he said.
"I saw them on a fruit stand for thirty cents, and couldn't resist."
"Never mind; I'll make it up to you."
Later, he asked for braille books, turning his sightless face toward her as he studied, trying to concentrate through the pain in his lung.
"If only you wouldn't insist upon the books awhile yet, dear. The doctor says it's too soon."
"I feel so strong, Hester, with you near, and, besides, I must start the pot boiling."
She kissed down into the high nap of his hair, softly.
Evenings, she read to him newspaper accounts of his fellow-soldiers, and the day of the peace, for which he had paid so terribly, she rolled his bed, alone, with a great tugging and straining, to the open window, where the wind from the river could blow in against him and steamboat whistles shoot up like rockets.
She was so inexpressibly glad for the peace day. Somehow, it seemed easier and less blackly futile to give him up.
Of Wheeler for three running weeks she had not a glimpse, and then, one day, he sent up a hamper, not a box, but an actual trunk of roses, and she, in turn, sent them up the back way to Kitty's flat, not wanting even their fragrance released.