“You like me as I am?”
The voice was incredulous.
“As well as I shall when you have finished your education, child.”
“As well?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t like me better then?”
“No, no better, Wanza.”
She rose and stood before me. The light from the open door of the cedar room was on her face, and I saw hopelessness in her eyes, and a tremulousness about her lovely child-mouth.
“You will never like me very, very much, then, I guess,” she said in a low tone.
She did not give me a chance to respond to this, but turned and went away through the cedars, and I sat still, saying over to myself: “Very, very much.”