“I'm afraid so. I have a great many things ahead of me to learn and do. I have been thinking. I have been afraid of the men who sit and scheme and put all their minds on making money. They did bitter things to us, and we didn't understand until it was all over. But I must go among them and watch them and learn how to make money.”
“Don't be like the others, now, and talk money—money,” she said, pettishly. “Money and their love-affairs—that's the talk I have heard from men ever since I was allowed to come into the drawing-room out of the nursery!”
“But I must talk money a little, dear. I have my way to make in the world.”
“Thrifty, practical, and Yankee!” she jested. “I suppose you can't help it!”
“It isn't for myself—it's for you!” he returned, wistfully, and with a voice and demeanor he offered himself as Love's sacrifice before her—the old story of utter devotion—the ancient sacrifice.
“I have all I want,” she insisted.
“But I must be able to give you what you want!”
“I warn you that I hate money-grubbers! They haven't a spark of romance in them. Boyd, you'd be like all the rest in a little while. You mustn't do it.”
“But I must have position—means before I dare to go to your father—if I ever shall be able to go to him!”
“Go to him for what?”