"I'm not much of a hand at letter-writing," he said.
"I thought that you'd forgotten me," I told him, "and that you were never going to come and see me again."
He put his hand under my chin, raised my face, and looked at it searchingly.
"Would it have mattered so much, then?" he asked gently.
"You know very well I'm in love with you," I told him desperately, and he said, as always:
"Nonsense!" though I know he liked to hear me say that.
Then he wanted to inspect me, and he held me off at arm's-length, and turned me around, too. I think it was my suit he was looking at, though he had seen it before. Then he made me sit down, and said we were going to have a "long talk." Of course I had to tell him everything that had happened to me since I had seen him. I omitted all mention of Dick!
I told him about Fred's wanting me to join him in New York, and he remarked:
"Fred can jump up. You're not going."
I did not argue that with him. I no longer wanted to go. I was quite happy and contented now that he was here. I didn't care whether he returned my love or not. I was satisfied as long as he was with me. That was much.