The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1916-10-12

ano gave you what happiness he
could coax from the scheme of
things? Don't I interest YOU?
Must | lose my money or must I
take sick and almost die or save
somebody in some romantic stunt to
make myself interesting? Iwant to
know where / am, what l can do.
Are you tired of seeing me about?
| might 60 away a few years. Shall
II" She laughed at his ridiculous,
half practical, half sentimental vein
80 characteristic Of him.
Perhaps l am just too used to
you, Max. You used simply to say
you were going to marry me-. The
last year you have leased me by
asking me till you make me cross.
l don't know just how l do feel. I
can't seem to get any perspective
on you-or on marriage at all. You
seem to stand between me and un-
Outstanding. l am not a coward,
but think of the responsibility! See
the Burroughses-always on the
ragged edge of a quarrel, undivorced
simply because the only thing they
agree on is hating a scandal! If
Kitty had said nc they might both
have been happy. It's a big thing
being responsible for a mans
happiness, especially if one might
get to care very much, and l have
nobody of my own, really"
His pulses sang at her words, but
he forbade himself to reach for the
hand which lay on her lap ungloved,
REALLY, Max, the uncertainty and
being bothered and all have put me
on the verge of-anything, lately.
l even thought how soon that little
pistol would decide things for me i!
If this goes on 1 shall certainly
study medicine, or jump from a
moving train, or let myself be car
ried off by Dick Benton!"
She certainly needed some one to
look after her, he reflected. He re-
membered that the mother she new
er knew had died of o broken heart.
This might make her a little bitter
and afraid. He had determined
what to do. He spoke in a most
matter of fact way, dismissing senti-
ment.
81 want something l left at the
bank" he said. 81 have dads key.
Would you mind if l stopped there
a minute and at the Leader Office
l forgot a notice that must be in
the morning ISSUE"
They were entering the city. She
acquiesced, her head a little dizzy,
her heart sinking at his silence.
Had she made him think she could
never-care? Would he never ask
her again? What she thought she
was losing became suddenly pre-
cious.
When they were on their way
home another fear stole v her,
Had she unconsciously shown her
heart? She wished for the mother
she had never k2own-the lovely,
sad mother they had told her of
They were entering the driveway.
He helped her out and walked
to the door with her. With hel
hand on the latch, she looked at
him timidly, wistfully, a new look
for Sylvia.
"Good night" she just breathed.
"They are all out yet"
"Just a moment, Sylvia" and he
drew her by the hand from the
porch, across the lawn, to the old
elm where they had played as chill
dren.
"Sylvia"-he let go her hand and
faced her-"you fear the RESPONSE
bility? | do not! will answer for
your happiness, Whlch Is my OWL
Can't YOU believe me? | got moth
er's old ring from the bank. Now,
for the last time, in spite of what
you have said, ! ask you to marry
me. Will you, Sylvia?
He stopped to catch her low an.
swer, but the sound of voices and
steps came from the porch.
"They are coming home," she
whispered, He took her by the
shoulders.
"Answer me, Sylviap' Tears
stood on her cheeks as she laughed
a little, pushing him from her as
she said:
ayes, yes, yesp She felt his arm
about her, his kiss on her lips, bis
ring on her finger. And she was
content.
When at last he was leaving hel
she whispered demurely:
81 said I would do something des,
perate-and ] have-you are accept
edl deserve ANYTHING for being