"Oh, Nelson, I fell in love with that man—a married man!" She lifted her shamed face and looked at him through her tears.
"That's number one," said Nelson, unperturbed.
"I started to run away with him and get married, without telling Mother," she burst forth with a fresh rush of tears.
"Number two," counted Nelson.
"And—and—I've been awful to Mother, and to that Mrs. Dunlap—" she choked out, "and—and—to God! I almost lost my senses!"
"I inferred as much. Now, is that all, little sweetheart? And shall we get out and doll up for breakfast?"
She buried her face in the folds of the wet handkerchief once more, and from its depths murmured: "Oh, Nelson, you always did take the ache out of things!"
"That's what I'm for," grinned Nelson delightedly, "and I always intend to keep on doing it. You know you're mine, little girl, have been ever since we were children, and I don't intend anything to hurt you any more than I can possibly help. Of course, if you get sick—" he smiled, "mentally sick, or physically sick, or spiritually sick, I'll just have to stand by and help till you get well again, but you're mine, little girl. I want that distinctly understood. Now, shall we get out and walk a little?"
"But Nelson—you mustn't. I'm not worthy of a devotion like that—I couldn't let you—"
"We're getting out, driver," Nelson tapped on the glass.