"Why don't you know, dear, that your mother is better able to take care of herself than you are. She's bigger and stronger. You—you're a little white flower."
"Leo—give me time. Let me think."
"A thousand thinks, Alma, but I love you. I love you and want so terribly for you to love me back."
"I—do."
"Then tell me with kisses."
Again she pressed him to arm's length.
"Please, Leo. Not yet. Let me think. Just one day. Tomorrow."
"No, no. Now."
"Tomorrow."
"When?"