"That's all right, little girl," said Harvey, swallowing hard. "I was an ass to even imagine that you could care for me, but you see I'm coming on so well that I shall soon put out my sign, and I felt that you might be such a help to me; that is, if you could care for me a little bit."
"And there are so many nice girls," she said, "waiting for just such a good man as yourself."
"But, Ethel, I don't want any girl. I want one. If I can't have her I guess I'll stay single. Anyway, I suppose a man needs to practice a lot before he marries. There's a couple of years in the Hospital. But I'm glad I know the truth, Ethel. By Jove! it's off my chest. I've tried to speak of it before but I couldn't."
"I wish I could say 'yes,' Harvey; but can't we still remain the good pals that we are?"
"Why, sure," replied the man, and he took her hand. "A man needs a woman friend, don't you think?"
"Yes," replied Ethel, "and I hope to prove my friendship for you."
Ethel never spoke of her proposal, nor did Harvey; but there was a firmer bond between them than formerly.
Patty wrote often. "You never saw two people so in love as Papa and Kate. It is wonderful and remarkably right. I only feel sorry to think that through all of these years they might have been so happy, and I'm sure papa kept single for me. How selfish daughters are, Ethel; and at the same time how little they realize that they are selfish."
Ethel folded the letter and said:
"What she writes is true. You and Papa might have had all of the years of my youth to be happy in, but you sacrificed them for me, and they'll never, never come back."