"Well, it's time they did. You never considered yourself."
There was unwonted emotion in her face and voice. He was touched, and surprised.
"I should think you'd be proud of me," he said lightly. "All these smart young doctors in town—but they don't get my practice unless I want to give it to 'em.... People sending for me from all over the county—pay my expenses and anything I want to ask. They don't think I'm too old to work."
"I am proud of you. I never said you were too old. I think you're a great man."
He laughed. "I wasn't fishing to that extent."
"Well, I want you to know that I admire you. I think you've had the most successful life I know about."
"Sounds like my obituary," he commented.
But Mary was groping for something she wanted to say, something newly felt. Looking at his small bent figure, his face, so gentle yet with something hard and firm in its calmness, suddenly she seemed to see him, his long laborious life, in a flash of light.
"I think you're beautiful," she said solemnly.