“I can't bear this waiting. I can't bear this not knowing so that I can tell Edith. I can't have my mind filled with the need of you just as men are beginning to catch the infection of an idea and are looking to me for clear-headed leadership. Take me or let me go and live my life.”
Margaret Ormsby looked at McGregor. When she spoke her voice was as quiet as the voice of her father telling a workman in the shop what to do with a broken machine.
“I am going to marry you,” she said simply. “I am full of the thought of it. I want you, want you so blindly that I think you can't understand.”
She stood up facing him and looked into his eyes.
“You must wait,” she said. “I must see Edith, I myself must do that. All these years she has served you—she has had that privilege.”
McGregor looked across the table into the beautiful eyes of the woman he loved.
“You belong to me even if I do belong to Edith,” he said.
“I will see Edith,” Margaret answered again.