"Why, yes, Cynthia, I understand it—of course I do," he answered, perplexed. "I understand it, but I don't deserve it."
"I want you to know," she continued in a low voice, "that I should have married you anyway. I—I could not have helped it."
"Cynthia!"
"If you were to go back to the locomotive works' tomorrow, I would marry you."
"On ninety dollars a month?" exclaimed Bob.
"If you wanted me," she said.
"Wanted you! I could live in a log cabin with you the rest of my life."
She drew down his face to hers, and kissed him.
"But I wished you to be reconciled with your father," she said; "I could not bear to come between you. You—you are reconciled, aren't you?"
"Indeed, we are," he said.