“You have been stunted, warped, and the fountains of life never have opened. It will come with right conditions of living.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know so. At least there is no one else you love, Ruth?”
“No one except you.”
“And do you feel about me just as you do him?”
“No! It is different. What I owe him is for myself. What I owe you is for my mother. You saw! You know! You understand what you did for her, and what it meant to me. The Harvester must be the finest man on earth, but when I try to think of either God or Heaven, your face intervenes.”
“That's all right, Ruth, I'm so glad you told me,” said Doctor Harmon. “I can make it all perfectly clear to you. You just go on and worship me all you please. It's bound to make a cleaner, better man of me. What you feel for me will hold me to a higher moral level all my life than I ever have known before; but never forget that you are not going to live in Heaven. You will be here at least sixty years yet, so when you come to think of selecting a partner for the relations of the world, you stick to the finest man on earth; see?”
“I do!” said the Girl. “I saw you kiss Molly a week ago. She is lovely, and I hope you will be perfectly happy. It won't interfere with my worshipping you; not the least in the world. Go ahead and be joyful!”
The doctor sprang to his feet in crimson confusion. The Girl lay and laughed at him.
“Don't!” she cried. “It's all right! It takes a weight off my soul as heavy as a mountain. I do adore you, as I said. But every hour since I left Chicago a big, black cloud has hung over me. I didn't feel free. I didn't feel absolved. I felt that my obligations to you were so heavy that when I had settled the last of the money debt I was in honour bound——”