"You can't think of anything else?" she asked, when Will had been silent for a few seconds.
"Those are my most serious points." He rose. "I only came to tell you of them, that you might add them to the objection of the shop."
Bertha also rose. He moved toward her to take leave.
"You will think?"
Turning half way, Bertha covered her face with her hands, like a child who is bidden "not to look." So she stood for a moment; then, facing Will again, said:
"I have thought."
"And—?"
"There is only one thing I am sorry for—that you are nothing worse than a grocer. A grocer's is such a clean, dainty, aromatic trade. Now if you kept an oil shop—there would be some credit in overlooking it. And you are so little even of a grocer, that I should constantly forget it. I should think of you simply as a very honest man—the most honest man I ever knew."
Warburton's face glowed.
"Should—should?" he murmured. "Can't it be shall?"