“Esther!”
“Bob—do think a little! If you and I were to—to—well, to tell them we were engaged, that we dreamed of such a thing, they would—I don’t know what they might do. They hate each other. Uncle loves me dearly, but he never, never would be reconciled to my marrying you. He would turn me out of his house, I know, and—”
Bob interrupted. “Esther, dear!” he protested. “What are you talking about? People don’t turn their relations out of doors into the snow nowadays, except on the stage. Captain Townsend would be mad at first, perhaps; although if he does worship you, as you say, I can’t think he would be mad long. Naturally, if he loved you, he would want you to do what would make you happiest. But, mad or not, he wouldn’t turn you out. That is foolish.”
“No, it isn’t. And I am sure your grandfather would have nothing more to do with you. They aren’t like other people. This lawsuit has—well, it has made them almost crazy—in that way.”
Her earnestness had its effect. Bob’s lip tightened. “Well, then,” he said, grudgingly, “suppose they did—turn us out, as you say? Probably they wouldn’t, but if they did—what of it? We would have each other. I have a little money and I could earn more. Look here, Esther; if you care as much for me as I do for you you won’t mind being poor. That won’t count at all. We’ll be together and—well, give me the chance and I swear you shan’t be poor long.... Of course, if you don’t care for me as much as that—if what you think about is money, why—”
“Bob! Bob, how can you! If money were all—yes, and if I, myself, were all, I should— No, I don’t even know that. I must be very, very certain before I even consider what I might do.”
“Certain! Certain of what? Do you mean that you don’t know whether you love me or not?... Esther!”
He was very appealing as he leaned forward in the chair, his eyes fixed upon hers. But she fought against the appeal as she had determined to fight.
“Why—why, yes, Bob,” she said, “perhaps I mean just that. I like you very much. Perhaps I may even—”
“Esther, dearest—”