“We’ve been partners, as we said we’d be until success was ours. And now he’s made the success, and—”
“Success as an artist, and he’s going to share it as a man?”
“I believe so—oh, I do believe so.”
Uncle Clem walked awhile in silence. When he began to talk it was almost as if he were speaking to himself.
“Queer trusting folk, we mortals,” he said. “And we set ourselves such wonderful tasks. How old Dame Nature must laugh at us and all our philosophies. Fancy two young people locking up the spark of love which had sprung between them, packing it away in a secret safe, and believing it could be brought to life when convenience allowed. How old Dame Nature must laugh! Can’t you imagine her peeping into the safe to see how the spark is getting along?” He turned suddenly upon Eve. “How is it getting along?”
“I keep it locked up here.” She pressed her hand upon her heart.
“Wonderful you!” said Uncle Clem. “God bless your trust. Hullo! This where you live?”
“Yes.”
“Can I come up for awhile?”
“Not tonight.”