"Oh," he exclaimed, "it does matter! You can't stand it."
"Is there anything people 'cannot stand'?" she said. "If there is, I should like to try it."
"You may well look as you do," he said.
"Yes, I may well," she answered. "And it is the result of the evil practice of thinking. When once you begin, it is not easy to stop. And I think you have begun."
"I shall endeavor to get over it," he replied.
"No," she said, "don't!"
She rose from her seat and stood up before him, trembling, and with two large tears falling upon her cheeks.
"Larry," she said, "that is what I wanted to say—that is what I have been thinking of. I shall not say it well, because we have laughed at each other so long that it is not easy to speak of anything seriously; but I must try. See! I am tired of laughing. I have come to the time when there seems to be nothing left but tears—and there is no help; but you are different, and if you are tired too, and if there is anything you want, even if you could not be sure of having it, it would be better to be trying to earn it, and to be worthy of it."
He rested his forehead on his hands, and kept his eyes fixed on the carpet.
"That is a very exalted way of looking at things," he said, in a low voice. "I am afraid I am not equal to it."