"Not chopped or sugared feathers, Vesty, but whole winged feathers of the natural flavor."
"Oh!" she said, "shouldn't you think they needed me?"
"Infinitely."
"Wait. Won't you come—come and see me often? Come evenings and hear the boys play—they can play!—and tell me"—her hands trembled—"tell me about Notely!" Her soul bare in her uplifted eyes. Only to one as a wraith, a shadow, out of the ordinary pale of humanity, could she have looked like that!
"Always, whatever I hear or know," I answered her. "Gurdon will not be jealous of me." I smiled at her.
She smiled back in her dim way. "Jealous?" she said. "What! after we are married?"
"Ay, surely! The Basins are true to each other then always."
"That is the way," she said.
"That is the way," I said, and left her.
When Notely Garrison received the letter that Vesty had written him he read at the end: "When you get this I shall be married;" and the "for love of you, Notely, God knows that! You must make the most of all He gives you." Notely seemed to see her eyes.