“Don’t begin telling me I ought to be doing something different! Everybody else does! I really enjoy my work at Shipley’s.”
“There ought to be some way,—” he began. Something in her look caused him to pause. “I was going to say that I don’t like the idea of your working—you must let me—now—”
“Ward!”
“Forgive me, dear,” he said contritely.
“I believe in work,” she went on quickly. “I mean always to do something; maybe not just what I’m doing now, but—something!”
“When you talk that way I feel as though you didn’t expect to belong to me always.” He rose and drew her to her feet. “Let’s have that understood here and now.” He held her away, his hands resting lightly on her cheeks as he looked into her eyes with mock severity. “We’ve got to be on our way in about two minutes, Miss Durland, and there must be no nonsense about this. Is it for always?”
“Yes, for always,” she answered.
“To the very end?”
“Yes, to the very end,” she assented soberly, and there was the foreshadowing of tears in her eyes.
“No matter what may happen; no matter if there should be times of separation beyond our control—you will still love me and trust me?”