"That was not difficult," he answered, "where the opposite had been the practice for so long. I'm going down now to inspect that street we are laying out just back of your place. I'm sorry there had to be blasting."
"The street will be all the more picturesque when it's done," she replied. "Good afternoon, and thank you, for what you promised."
"O, I wonder if I can hold out," she said to herself as he went out. "If he had said another word, I should have given in,—but he didn't."
Still, that he would say it some other time, she knew. Then she would have to say yes.
CHAPTER XXVII
A Heart's Awakening
There were the afternoon letters to dictate, which took her nearly an hour; and there were callers who kept her in the office until nearly five o'clock. When they had all left she sat for a moment, resting and reviewing the events of the day.
"I wonder if I've done right," she queried. "He will succeed me and do great things for Roma, but O, I wish I could help him. I wish I dared let myself love him as he deserves. I wish I were one of the softer, clinging women, made to love a man and to depend on him for happiness. After all, they are the fortunate ones. But,—what am I saying? Brace up, Gertrude Van Deusen; don't be a sentimental girl! You've prided yourself on your independence of mind and heart. At your age, to be thinking of a man,—and one whose ideal is so far from what you know yourself to be! I'll go to Europe this winter and stay a year. I'll soon get back to my old spirit, and cease to think—"