“That is not a great motive.”
“No; and that boy’s gold lace wasn’t; but he made a success.”
“Yes,” was all Judith said.
“You are displeased with me.”
“I am disappointed. I thought you cared.”
“I do; in a certain way.”
“But not in the best way.”
“Judith, I am not ‘great’ or ‘best.’”
“I thought you were; I want you to be.”
“That is a motive,” he said, catching her hands again. “Judith, if you will tell me you love me and will marry me, I will go home and tell my father I will make gold rings and sell them to the end of my days; but you must let me put one on your finger.”