“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Oh, Justin, I can’t. I thought you meant we’d made a mistake in ever being engaged. We did. We’re not suited to each other.”
“I don’t agree with you. Your letter convinced me that we are.”
“I didn’t mean it that way at all,” she said unhappily. “We’re not, Justin. Not a bit. I’m too—too kinda wild for you. You don’t want a wife like me. If you knew, you wouldn’t want me a bit.”
“I’m the best judge of that,” he answered, smiling a little.
“But you don’t. I’d always be troubling you with my crazy ways.”
“No. It’s just that you’re young,” he insisted.
“It isn’t. I’m born that way. I’ll always be like that. Besides—” She stopped, searching for a way to put it gently. “Besides, I’d want a husband—if I ever marry at all—who needs me, who has to have me, who can’t get along without me.”
“I need you,” he said.
“Oh no, you don’t. Not really. You think you do, maybe, but not in the way I mean. You’re strong—self-sufficient. Please, I don’t mean it in an uncomplimentary way. But you are big, you know. A wife would have to fit into you—be just a—an important detail of your life. I couldn’t do that. I’ve got to be everything to a man—help him—talk over his difficulties with him—be just the biggest thing in the world to him. I couldn’t really do anything for you. You’re complete. You don’t need anything done for you. With or without me, you’re going to be awf’ly successful. Oh, I know it sounds silly, but it isn’t.”