In her deep, soft eyes a dream lingered. “That’s just what I want—to begin everything with you. It’s silly, but I’m jealous of all those years when I didn’t have you—of all the sorrows and joys you’ve had, of the girls and the men you’ve known—because I can’t share them with you. I’ve got to know all you think and share all your hopes. If you ever think, ‘She’s just my wife—’”
“Never that. Always, ‘She’s my wife,’” he promised.
“As long as you say it that way, Tug,” she murmured, and clung to him with a little feminine savagery of possession.
Ruth, impatient at being ignored, again claimed attention.
“Talk to me, too,” she ordered.
Tug caught her small hand in his. “Of course, we’ll talk to little sister.”
“Are you my big brother?” she asked.
Betty stooped and snatched the child to her. “He’s going to be,” she whispered.
Upon this Ruth set the seal of her approval. “Goody, I like him. An’ he’ll get me heaps ’n’ heaps of tandy. More’n anybody.”