He laughed. "It was what I didn't do! They said I didn't take my chances. Edith's father said I didn't."
"Take risks, you mean?"
"No.... Chances to make money—he said I let the best chances go by."
"Why did you do that?" asked Aunt Jane. Her face, turned to him, was full of kindly interest.
He sat with his hands thrust in his pockets, looking at her.
"That's what I've never been able to tell Edith," he said slowly. "But I think I can tell you—if you'll let me.... I've been thinking about it a good deal since she's been ill and I think it's because I always see something ahead—something bigger—that I'd rather work for." The hands thrust themselves deeper into his pockets and his face grew intent. "I feel it so strongly—that it seems wasteful to stop to pick up the twopenny bits they're scrambling for."
He threw back his shoulders. "Well, I'm going to try.... I've made up my mind—She means more to me than anything in the world and if she can't be happy, I'm going to give it up.... That's all! And thank you for letting me talk it out. It's done me more good than you know!" He held out his hand.
Aunt Jane took it slowly. "I don't quite think I'd give up, Mr. Dalton." She was looking at him through her glasses, and the young man had a sudden sense that her face was beautiful. "I don't think I'd give up—not quite yet—if I was you."